Power & Control
by jnternetinfluencer
Summary: "The Boltons have never really been loyal to the Starks, seven hells Robb, what are you doing?" she raised her voice slightly, looking him straight in the eyes. "That's why I need you to marry hi-". "I'm not marrying Roose Bolton" she whisper-shouted, slamming her foot down. "I need you to marry his son". "Never in a million moons, I will not become a Bolton".
1. Prologue

I have always considered myself lucky, born in a noble house allied to the most important one in the north, I always had everything.  
I wouldn't consider myself spoiled, no, that was my younger sister Emmalyn, she always got whatever she wished for and I knew that I could've gotten the same too, I just never liked having everything served in front of me.  
I needed challenges, I needed to know that what was mine I had gotten with my own strength and wits.  
Nonetheless I always lived in a privileged condition, servants and peasant would bow before me and address me as a lady.  
My family was always caring and supportive of me, the eldest of three daughters, my father was never too pleased with not having a true born heir and I knew that if he, even by chance, had had the possibility to trade me for a male heir he would have done, without a second thought.  
My entire life I had been trained to behave like the lady my father needed me to be, for, if he were to die, I would become the lady of the house.  
My entire life I trained for a position that I would lose in a second if my mum would gift my father the great gift of a son.  
I spent the first 17 years of my life terrified that that would happen and that I would get everything taken away from me, I was afraid that I would lose my position as lady of Woodsteep and that I would have to go and marry a nobleman from who knows where; if that were to happen I would have had lost my surname and a part of me.  
I was Annalys Woods, lady of Woodsteep and _no one would take that away from me._

Since the death of my father and that of my dearest mother I had found myself ruling over one of the most powerful houses of the north, one of, if not the greatest, ally of the Warden of the North, house Stark.  
I was only 17 when my father died of disease, no one thought he would die so young, his death was so sudden that he still hadn't had the time to actually decide who my betrothed would be.  
Of course I, being a woman, couldn't have a say in the matter, so my dearest father decided to leave the choice to house Stark.  
I was to marry whoever the Wardens of the North thought could make a great ally to the north.  
Ironic that I, as lady of my house, had to choose the husbands for my beloved sisters but at the same time I wasn't allowed to choose one for myself.  
And so there I was, ruling over my house like I was taught to, waiting to be married to an insignificant man that lived somewhere in Westeros.  
"Ser Olivar Flint will rule during the time of my absence" I annouced as all of my most important subjects listened to me "I shall be back in less than a week, justice will be served".  
I made my way out of the great hall without saying another word, I always loved dramatic exits.  
After saying my farewells to my sisters I made my way to the stables where my squire and a few of my most trusted men were waiting for me, my gray horse already saddled and ready to go.  
I jumped on him careful not to ruin my expensive dress, I never liked wearing a riding habit for it made my body look funny and unpolished.  
The journey would take less than a day so it's not going to be that uncomfortable, I reassured myself.  
My men and I were to ride north, to Winterfell, there I was supposed to meet Robb Stark and stand by him and his house in that moment of grief for the north; Eddard Stark had just been unfairly arrested and he were to be prosecuted.  
I rode my horse for hours in silence two men in front of me leading the way, two behind me protecting me, on my right side I had Reila, my most trusted handmaiden and on my right I had my squire.  
I watched as trees stormed past me, my father would always refer to them as gold, never in my life had I heard him call the forest with its proper name, to him it was either gold, or money.  
My house was the main supplier of weapons in Westeros, but our shields are what made us rich, the wood from our trees is the finest and strongest in all of the Seven Kingdoms.  
I had always loved the forest of the Woodsteep, with its not so tall trees you could actually walk in it and see small fragments of the sky.  
Winterfell was at the eastern end of the Woodsteep, the bit were the trees were the wildest and tallest. Sansa Stark, the little lady of the North, had always been terrified of them, and every time she met me and my father she would beg us to cut them down; I smiled bitterly, this time she wouldn't be here to do so.

We entered the familiar Winterfell right in time for the sun to set, usually, I found myself remembering, there would be an entire party waiting to welcome me and father inside the walls of the fort, this time we found only Robb and Lady Catelyn Stark.  
I hurriedly jumped down of my horse making my way towards the duo, I curtseyed to them like I was taught to and then run into Robb's arms like a sister would do with her big brother.  
Once inside we rushed to the great hall were we found a few Stark's men already seated, they rose to greet me and then we all took our place at the wooden table.  
There we spoke for hours, plotted and cursed at the Lannister's regards and by the end of the night, when the sun started to rise again and the candles became useless, we had decided that Robb would march on Kings Landing, his bannermen following him in battle.  
I wasn't too thrilled with the decision for I had always disliked war or even the thought of it, but I had to do what needed to be done.  
As everyone arose from the small council the maester hurried to the tower to send all the ravens to the houses of the north, I rubbed my eyes trying to mask my tiredness and followed Robb outside.  
We walked silently in the small garden, Grey Wind trotting at the Lord's side, our parents plotted for years the possibility of marriage between him and I, therefore I had spent most of my childhood in Winterfell, bonding with the Stark children and learning all about the fort.  
Until, one day, my father called it off.  
"Marriage was invented to make new alliances" my father had told me when I was 14 of age "Us and the Starks are already on good terms, this would take us nowhere".  
Eddard Stark was never offended for he truly understood the reasoning behind it, but from that moment on my visits to Winterfell became rare.  
I scanned the grass beneath my feet, not knowing where to look or what to say, Robb was expecting me to say something since I decided to join him on his walk.  
"I will follow you in battle" I then blurted out, it's not something I had planned, it just seemed the right thing to say at the time.  
Robb scoffed, turning to look at me with a faint smile.  
"No" he said after a while, I was ready to reply that I knew how to fight and how to wield a sword and how to shoot an ar… "I need you here in the North, I need someone I truly trust to control that nothing happens".  
I nodded, not knowing what to answer.  
We just kept walking in silence.

"My lady" said maester Volarik, I raised my head slightly, looking at him unfazed "Robb Stark just proclaimed himself King in the North".  
I immediately arose from my seat, grabbing the letter from the maester's old hands.  
I scanned the entire scroll in a fast manner, catching only the key words.  
I expected Robb to be shocked after Eddard's death, I wasn't expecting that.  
I confusedly looked at my maester for help, hoping he would reassure me or, even better, convince me that nothing bad would happen.  
"My lady" he repeated "He wants to know if you'll swear loyalty to him".  
I sat back down on my chair, closing my eyes and rubbing my face nervously.  
"Write" I started, unsure "Write that I swear loyalty to the King in the North, that I – no, that the Woods always will" I exhaled, preoccupied.  
The old man nodded, exiting the room.  
I rose once again from my seat, unable to stay put, I started pacing the room, trying to calm myself down.  
I tried to believe in Robb, maybe, I told myself naively, this will work out and no one I truly care about will get hurt.  
My thoughts switched to my poor men, my soldiers, that I sent to war without a real commander, they were following one of my most trusted knights, but I still felt bad for leaving them without a true guide.  
I smoothed my dress trying to avoid getting it too messy and wrinkly and grabbed my fur coat, I opened the wooden door that led to a badly lit corridor, I wandered mindlessly inside my castle, every once in a while stopping to accept curtseys from maidens.  
Once I was in the main courtyard I lost myself staring at our coats of arms, I always hated the simplicity of it, they sure weren't as memorable as the Starks, or the Lannisters or even the Boltons. The colors were a dull green and a dirty grey, over it a plain black leafless tree that reminded everyone of our house name, Woods.  
The only thing that I always admired was our motto, written in bold letters it stated that we had always been 'conquered by none' and it was true.  
Somehow I found myself in the large garden that led to the opening of the woods.  
I walked on the grass covered by the snow and listened to the sounds that the workers made by handling the threes.  
Ironically, Me, the lady that despised war, was also the lady of the major house provider of weapons in the entire Westeros.

I woke up to a light knocking on my door, I groggily sat up in my comfortable bed and muttered a "come in". I tried to mask the extreme annoyance in my voice, I had just fallen asleep after an entire night of tossing and turning, too preoccupied to close my eyes.  
My younger sister slipped in the room, swiftly closing the door behind her.  
"What is it sweetling?" her doe-like eyes started welling up with tears as she stood right by the door.  
My heart broke in a thousand pieces looking at her like this "Lunae, what's wrong?" I urged, my voice full of concern.  
She inched closer to my bed, I patted the space next to me and she obeyed.  
"I'm scared" she sniffled, I pulled her closer.  
"Of what?  
"I'm scared that you will send me away" I raised my eyebrows in confusion, waiting for her to keep going "I heard a maid talking about my possible husbands and they live so far away, I don't want to leave".  
Lunae was now sobbing, gripping my nightgown tightly, I made sure she could see my face clearly before speaking.  
"My sweet sister, you're only 9 of age, you're too young to marry" I said reassuringly "Also, you can't marry until I'm married, and I still don't have a betrothed, so don't worry". I hugged her, tightly, and, like that, we fell asleep.

 **Hello!**  
It's the first time that I post a fanfiction in English on a website, so I'm a little nervous.  
I'm Italian so, even though writing is my passion, it's a tiny bit hard to do it in another language. If, while reading, you find some mistakes you are more than welcome to tell me!  
Also I don't know how fanfictions work on here, but in my country we post the **next chapter when we reach a certain number of reviews** , now I'm probably not going to do it here, _BUT remember that reviews are what keep a story going ((especially for me, writing a chapter takes a looong time, because I have to translate words, search for idioms and work on it a lot more than I would with a ff in my native language))._  
So yeah, this is my first chapter and my, even longer, authors note!  
If you're concerned, don't worry, **Ramsay will appear in the next chapters** , I just wanted to set the story and a general idea before ACTUALLY starting with the real story if that makes sense.  
Oh also, just a heads up: while the first chapters will be extremely PG-13, don't expect all of them to be, I mean, this is still a Ramsay Bolton fanfiction so…  
Okay, see you next chapter!  
Love,  
Nicole


	2. Power and control

_To right-brainer. Thank you for your kind words, I was really feeling self-conscious about this story and you made me feel better.  
And to booksareforescaping for reviewing._

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Annalys waltzed trough the great hall, answering swiftly and kindly the thousand questions that her subjects were posing her.  
"No, I will not send more men into battle" she found herself repeating once again "We need most of the men here, to produce the weapons".  
"No" she said to another "I don't know what Robb's next move will be, he fears that the Lannisters will intercept his letters".  
She had never felt so overwhelmed in her entire life, when the news that Robb Stark had become the King in the North leaked, everyone seemed to had gone crazy.  
She couldn't blame them, she herself had panicked.  
"My lords" she raised her voice, she smiled "This is all I know for now, but do not despair, as soon as I'll know something else I will call for a meeting".  
Everyone nodded and bowed, starting to crowd around the exit of the great hall, Annalys sat down on one of the wooden chairs.  
She smoothed her light blue dress, the color of sadness, she found herself thinking, as much as she hated to admit it, she was worried.  
Not for her men, not for the North.  
She was worried for Robb, the boy whom she grew up with, the boy she adored, the boy who she dreamed of marrying.  
Oh please, she scolded herself trying to pull her pieces together, I don't have time to be foolish.  
"Lady Woods" she recognized the voice of her maester, Annalys stood up, she grabbed her heavy gown and wobbled to him, the tiredness making her vision blurry.  
Maester Volarik handed her an envelope, he stared at her waiting to see the lady's face show some emotion, she stayed stoic while looking at the sigil of a direwolf.  
"Thank you" she exclaimed sternly.  
Annalys gripped the letter in her hand as she hurriedly exited the room.  
Climbing the stairs two at a time she found herself at the top of her tower, in her bedchambers.  
She closed the chamber's heavy wooden door with force, the sound of it slamming against the jamb echoing in the entire hallway.  
Annalys sighed walking to her bed, a million ideas running in her mind. She felt extremely overwhelmed, Robb had wrote her, only two days before, that he would refrain himself from sending her letters, unless it was vital.  
Examining the letter she run her thumb over the dark grey direwolf made out of wax, she was too familiar with it, having seen it her entire life from the letters that she exchanged with the Starks siblings.  
Once I open this, she told herself, I can't go back, everything that this letter holds secret will become true.  
She open with lightness trying not to ruin the wax symbol, she then scanned it briefly searching for key words.  
One caught her eye, marriage.  
The lady gasped, was it Robb's or hers?  
She decided to read the entire letter.

Annalys knelt in front of her two sisters.  
"I'll be back my loves" she said patting each head with fondness "It will just be for less than a month and then we will have a party, like the ones mum used to love".  
The two girls giggled, happy.  
"I'll miss you more than a man in the middle of Dorne's desert misses water" she said kissing their foreheads, Annalys parted from them approaching her grey horse instead.  
Her squire hurried to her, helping her up on the equine.  
This time she wasn't wearing a dress, but her oh so hated riding clothes, she was to be riding south for seven days, in order to meet Robb at his camp near the Riverlands.  
She and twenty of her most trusted men and two handmaidens trotted out of the fort, the early morning breeze making Annalys shiver, she was tired from the few hours of sleep she got each night and, even though they had been at war for a mere month, she was awaiting the end of it all with joy.  
They rode for hours, the trot that, in other situations, would have been almost a stroll, this time had turned into a full gallop.  
Annalys tried to find things to keep her mind occupied, going at such a high speed she couldn't converse with her handmaidens, unless she wanted to scream, and she couldn't even let her mind run free, because she knew she would end up thinking about _him_.  
She tried to focus on the landscape that was passing by, her beloved mountains covered in snow started to fade in the distance, becoming green hills.  
She felt her horse slowing down alongside all of the others, and she started looking around confused, trying to mask her disorientation as curiosity.  
"My lady you have to get down" she heard one of her men say, she grew even more concerned.  
"Why? What's going on?" she asked, gripping the rails of her horse.  
Her man raised an eyebrow pointing at the river in front of them "We're taking the horses drinking, my lady" he grabbed her waist, helping her to the ground, without saying another word he was off, guiding her horse to the river.  
Annalys took a deep breath, she was growing more paranoid as she parted from her Woodsteep.  
"They cannot see me crumble" she told herself, under her breath "If they see I'm upset they will too".  
She started walking by the river, playing with her sleeves, pulling the threads out of her riding uniform. She had never felt so helpless.  
In his letter Robb had talked about his upcoming marriage with a Frey girl and had also mention the possibility of _hers_.  
"Enough of being scared" she said "Enough of this self-pity" she stopped, staring at her wobbly reflection in the water.  
"Enough" she said, raising her voice.  
She adjusted her hair, stood straighter, like a proper lady in charge.  
"Enough of being scared" she repeated, nodding her head.

"My lord, lady Annalys Woods is here" said a man, Robb nodded.  
"Let her in" the man opened the curtains of the tent and Annalys walked in, head held high.  
Her clothes were dirty, she was wearing breeches instead of her usual dress, but she looked fierce nonetheless.  
"My lords" she curtseyed in front of Robb and all of his men "My lady" she nodded her head to lady Stark.  
"May I have a word with her alone?" the young wolf asked, keeping his gaze on the girl, everyone left.  
He tried to hug her, she looked at him with her warm eyes "Why am I here Robb?" she demanded, avoiding his touch.  
"I need your help" he said "there are men in my army that I don't trust".  
He motioned her to get closer, she obliged, Annalys wanted to arms on her chest like she would when in an uncomfortable situation, but she did not want to look childish. She decided to grip her breeches instead, knuckles turning shades lighter that her usual skin tone from the pressure.  
"Especially Roose Bolton" Robb whispered.  
"Roose Bolton? Why is he even in your small council?" she said in a hushed tone "The Boltons have never really been loyal to the Starks, seven hells Robb, what are you doing?" she raised her voice slightly looking him straight in the eyes.  
"I don't need your lecture, Annalys" she sent him a death glare "I need you to marry hi-".  
"I'm not marrying Roose Bolton" she whisper-shouted, slamming her foot down, her boot digging in the grass.  
"I need you to marry his _son_ ".  
"No" Annalys said, her voiced raised "Never in a million moons will I become a Bolton".  
"He's not a Bolton, Annalys, he's a bastard, which is perfect because he would take your surname" he half grinned, proud of himself.  
"I'm not marrying anyone, I'm not a stupid puppet in your game" she shouted, voice at full force, arms flailing in the air.  
"Yes you are" he screamed back, he wasn't angry, he just knew that, sometimes, screaming was the only way to get Annalys to _really_ listen "everyone is Annalys, I am too".  
She shook her head, bewildered.  
"Is it because you're forced to marry one of Walder Frey's daughters?" she gesticulated, eyes open wide "You're taking out the frustration of not being able to choose your wife on me?".  
"Annalys" he grabbed her arm in an attempt to calm her down.  
"I'm not marrying a bastard, Robb" she spat, her voice back to a whisper "Seven Hells I am not marrying Ramsay Snow out of all of them, have you heard what they _say_ about him?".  
He stared at her with a small smile gracing his lips, he had expected her to react like that, he knew her too well.  
"You don't have to marry him" he said finally "Just agree to the marriage".  
"And then what? _Your grace_?" she spat mocking him, annoyed "The day of the marriage I run away?".  
"No, you will wait 'till the war is over, who knows what will happen by then" he grabbed ahold of her hand, pulling her in the center of the tent "I will do the same and when I'll defeat the Lannisters and take the throne I'll marry you".  
Annalys raised her head to meet his gaze, an eyebrow raised in confusion.  
"You will become my queen".  
"Robb" she exclaimed "I don't…". her heart was pounding, the sound of it beating in her ears.  
"Please, Annalys". She didn't love, he didn't love her, but it seemed like the best opportunity she had.  
She sighed "What if you don't make it?".  
"Let's not think about that" he said touching her cheek lightly.  
"Alright" she said, grabbing his hand tightly "I agree".

"I will not leave my fort" she dictated, hands on her hips, voice clear and strong "I will gladly stop at the Dreadfort to collect your son and then we will head to the Woodsteep, together".  
She was standing near Robb, facing Roose Bolton, lord of the Dreadfort; scattered around the tent were a few of Robb's men, extremely interested in the exchange.  
"When the war is over you will have your fort and part of my dowry and, finally, your son will take my surname" since you didn't give him _yours_ , she wanted to add, but bit her tongue instead.  
Roose Bolton nodded, it was clear he didn't like talking.  
"I'll write a letter to my son, then" he came closer to Annalys, taking her hand and kissing it "It will be a pleasure to have you as a part of the family, my lady" he then looked at Robb "now, if you'll excuse me, my king".  
Annalys watched Lord Bolton get out of the tent, then turned to Robb, giving him a small pleased smile.  
"So you're getting married aye?" she turned around, Theon Greyjoy was staring at her with his usual grin, she chuckled.  
"So it seems" she looked him up and down, he was also dressed in riding clothes "Going somewhere my lord?".  
He smiled cheekily "I'm going to Pyke to negotiate with my father, we need more men and more alliances".  
"I see" she reciprocated the smile "Have a safe journey, my lord".  
They hugged.  
"You too, my lady".

 _ **I'm back!**_  
Finally the story starts to kick in! Next chapter we'll finally see Ramsay, but it'll be a while before we will see his true self.  
 **ALSO** , if the titles of the chapters seem odd to you I swear they make sense, they will all be lyrics from Marina & The Diamonds' song, Power & Control, I'm not gone completely mad (for now, at least)  
Thanks to the two lovely people that reviewed, and thank you to the _two_ that put this story in the favorites (I love you) and to the _six_ that decided to 'follow' this story (I love you, too).  
So yeah, I already have another chapter fully written and I'll probably upload it the day after tomorrow but I'm not too sure…  
ANYWAYS, let me know what you think of this chapter, and the possible mistakes that I made.  
Love you,  
Nicole.


	3. You may be good looking

_To Germany11, thank you for your sweet review.  
And to __jazu10501 and to ilovetoplan for your reviews, I hope you'll like this chapter too._

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She walked alongside the river, the end of her dress getting slightly dirty, but she didn't care. Everything around her was silent, the faintest noise around her coming from the stream, and the horses in the distance.  
The entire trip to the Dreadfort had been straining for her petite figure, for someone that had never went further than Winterfell going to the Riverlands and back in a few weeks had taken a toll on her body. Her mind was also tired from thinking, she had spent the entire journey plotting and establishing her moves, her words. Annalys knew that she had to be careful in order to survive there, she had only twenty men and two handmaidens, against the entire Dreadfort and an unpredictable bastard.  
"My lady" Reila walked tentatively towards her "We need you to change in your good dress".  
Annalys sighed, of course she couldn't meet her betrothed dressed in a mudded and stinking dress, not that she cared.  
"We're already at the Dreadfort?" she asked, annoyance seeping through her voice, the lady scanned the landscape searching for the silhouette of a castle.  
"Not yet, my lady" said the young woman, offering Annalys her arm "but this will be our last stop".  
The lady nodded slightly, feeling her entire body go numb, everything around her seemed to had all withered into nothing. She stared at her men as she walked to the quickly built tent, they all seemed to her so far away from all the highborn lords' games, blissfully unaware.  
Once in her tent, her body started undressing mechanically, making movements that her mind didn't want her to, her hands unlacing the corset of her brown dress.  
Annalys saw her handmaidens take out a beautiful dark green and silver dress, her house colors, and she watched them start assembling it on her body.  
"Raise your arm my lady" she obliged, her mind still running through the different conversations she could have with Snow.  
"Could you turn around, my lady?" she obliged, staring at her image in the quickly set up mirror, seeing her body clothed in the dress with her house colors sent a jolt of realization through her, she had spent the entire time plotting just to run away from the reality.  
She wanted to scream and run away, grab her horse and gallop back home, to her sisters. She felt trapped, nowhere to escape, no other choices to make.  
She had agreed to the marriage, but now she was regretting her choice made in the spur of the moment, she also felt like a coward, scared of Ramsay Snow.  
Annalys stared at herself in the mirror, her facial expression crunched up in a hurt demeanor, she hated feeling helpless, she hated the feeling of terror.  
She wasn't strong, her entire life's preparation had not taught her how to act in situations like this, she didn't know how to behave, she hadn't been prepared to the real world outside of the Woodsteep.  
She stood straighter, looking like a fierce lady was her only shield, she forced her facial expression to turn emotionless.  
"You look great my lady" cooed Reila, the other handmaiden agreed.  
"Thanks" she managed to get out, her voice sounding coarse from the week she spent keeping quiet, she had only muttered a few words only when needed.  
And it was in that moment, watching her two handmaidens smiling at her, that she remembered the promise she had made to herself two weeks prior.  
Enough of being scared, she had told herself.  
The young lady looked down at her feet covered by the gorgeous dark green gown and then let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.  
The worst that can happen is that I get killed, she naively told herself, and he cannot kill me for I'm his only hope.  
She smiled the faintest of smiles.  
Ramsay Snow cannot kill me. My surname and title are his only hopes.  
She walked out of the tent.  
"Ser Olivar" she called aloud, her voice creaking a little, a new confidence finding its way out of her.  
The knight rushed to his lady, worried.  
"I want you to be by my side at all times, be sure to be as intimidating as you always are".  
The man chuckled in his low voice.  
"Sure thing, my lady" she nodded.  
"And everyone" she called to her men "We will be staying here for less than a month so don't get yourselves too comfortable".  
"That won't be a problem, my lady" someone shouted, she smiled.  
In the distance they could already see the gloomy Dreadfort and it sure didn't look appealing.  
Annalys could even spot the shape of some woods, she smiled remembering her Woodsteep.  
"We need to represent our house as best as we can, so no fights, no rapes, I don't want to hear one single bad thing about my men" she made sure to look each of her twenty men in the eyes before going on "For if something were to happen, there would be consequences for me and for you, we're not at the Woodsteep, we don't know how this men think and act, we have to be careful".  
Her men agreed noisily with her, chanting her house motto.  
"Conquered by none" she screamed, making them shout it even louder "now let's go!".

"Who would pass this gate?" a Bolton men shouted from a tower in the Dreadfort, the building looked extremely gloomy, granted that she had only seen two castles in her life and she couldn't compare it to much, this one wasn't well-finished, all the stones seemed to had been put there in a messy and quick way, each of a different color and shape from the other.  
"Annalys Woods, daughter of Rodrik Woods, lady of Woodsteep and bannerman to the King in the North" she shouted back, sitting straighter on her grey horse.  
"You're lying, lady Woods is to be expected in a few days" he shouted back, Annalys turned to her men with a smile gracing her lips. She remembered all the tales her father would tell at feasts, of how they would always arrive early thanks to their horses, the fastest ones in the North, they could only be outran by the ones in Dorne.  
"Shame we got here now" she answered, turning to point at their banners, flailing in the wind "Can't you see the coat of arms? What do you think it is?" she sassed, growing impatient.  
The guard disappeared for a couple of minutes, giving the lady and her men time to laugh.  
"Every damn time" said one of her men, he had been one of her father's most trusted men.  
The heavy gates in front of her opened slowly, she could hear the commotion inside the fort, she put on her warmest smile.  
Their horses started to move forward, entering the fort.  
Annalys sneakily tried to look around, everything looked sad and dark, not that she expected differently, the courtyard was smaller than hers and Winterfell's.  
Only a few people, maidens, a few soldiers and stable boys, were waiting for them standing messily at the sides of the odd-colored yard, they were probably the first people that had been fetched in a sad and quick attempt of a welcoming party.  
In the middle of the yard stood a young and fierce man, that was awaiting in a put together manner. His toned body was covered in dark leather, Annalys saw the belt full of daggers and a shiver shot through her spine, his shoulders were covered with a fur coat. His dark hair was messy on his forehead and almost reached his studying eyes she instantly noticed that they both shared an icy blue stare.  
He was handsome, with his dark slightly curly hair and his charming eyes.  
Silence filled the air, tension building up between the two young lords, they locked eyes, analyzing each other.  
Her squire was quick at her side, waiting to help her descend from her horse, she leaned towards him, eyes still locked with the lord in front of her.  
Once on her feet she grabbed her gown like a proper lady and walked to the boy.  
He took a step in her direction, but she stopped, bowing her head, fingers gripping the ends of her skirt, her right leg laying behind her left one as she _curtsied_.  
A glacial silence fell into the courtyard, then someone started to murmur and then other whispers that turned into full uproar.  
She was a highborn lady, he was a bastard, he had to show her respect, not the other way around, but she knew exactly what she was doing, she knew that a man's ego was the easiest way to gain his favors.  
As she raised back from her curtsy, she looked at the man before her who seemed baffled, the noises around them stopped when he raised an arm in the air commanding everyone to stop.  
She smiled warmly to him as he took a few steps, closing the distance between the two, her insides churning as his gentle eyes turned into angry ones. She had embarrassed him in front of his subjects.  
She offered him her hand as he took it and brought it to his lips the stubble tickling her skin.  
"It's an honor to meet you, Lord" she stopped for a second, uncertain, feeling extremely self-conscious "Ramsay".  
"Welcome to the Dreadfort, my lady" he answered, smiling, she studied his face, the anger that has passed through his eyes just moments before seemed to be gone.  
His voice was different that she had imagined, and so was him; after everything she had heard about him, all the awful stories, she had expected to meet a monster with scars and a deep voice, but there he was, an handsome young man with a normal fitting voice.  
"I presume you must be tired after the long journey" he said, offering her his arm.  
"Yes" she grabbed the inside of his leather coated arm hoping that he wouldn't feel her hands shaking "We are".  
"Well then, my men will show your men their rooms" he announced, staring a few of his men down.  
"What about my room?" she asked, cheekily.  
"I'll show it to you personally" he smiled, once again.

Annalys wandered helplessly through the gloomy corridors of the Dreadfort, her maidens following her; they were trying to find the main hall, but somehow they would always find themselves in the dungeons, except that time they had somehow managed to get back to their own rooms.  
It had turned into a game, every time they would catch a glimpse of another corridor they would place bets on what they would see, every time someone would choose the main hall as an option and every time that someone would be wrong.  
"Seven hells no one will ever escape this place" commented Reila with a laugh as they entered another wrong corridor.  
"This is probably the purpose, Reila" answered Cerlina, her other maid, Annalys felt shivers down her spine as the feeling of being trapped downed on her once again.  
"Forget the damn hall" she said, stopping in her tracks "I want to go outside".  
The two maidens nodded, understanding that their little game was over.  
In the meantime they had found themselves in front of a flight of stairs, they climbed them down with caution.  
As soon as they got on the last step Reila started laughing Cerlina joined in and so did Annalys.  
Right next to the stairs a wooden door opened on the great hall.  
Annalys grabbed the fabric of her skirt, bending slightly trying to stop her laughter, so did her two maids.  
She saw a pair of boots walk to her so she raised herself to face the man, Ramsay Snow was right in front of her, with an unreadable expression.  
Annalys wiped a tear from her eye and muttered a 'sorry, my lord'.  
"What is the reason of this commotion?" he said it the same way her father would, back when she was still a child and she and her friends would roam the fort destroying it.  
She smiled genuinely.  
"Whenever you search something you never seem to find it, but the moment you stop that becomes the first thing you find" she said pointing to the great hall "we got lost".  
"Oh yes" he said, a clearly fake smile spread on his face "I suppose it's easy to get lost in here".  
"My lord" she had decided to ask him the easiest way to the yard "would you care to join me for a walk outside?".  
"By all means, my lady" he was clearly not expecting her offer, she turned to her maidens and shooed them away.  
"Then please, my lord, lead the way". Annalys took ahold of his right arm, clothed in leather.  
He guided her skillfully through the many corridors and finally they reached the courtyard, the lady breathed in, her lungs filling with the much needed air.  
"My lord" she exclaimed after a while, they were circling the walls of the castle "I meant to ask you earlier, but it didn't seem the right time".  
"Please, my lady, is there something that bothers you?" he stopped, concern showing on his face, she knew it wasn't genuine.  
"No, my lord. I just wanted to know when we could leave for the Woodsteep" she locked eyes with him "I need to get back to my subjects".  
Ramsay shook his head in confusion "Won't we stay here?" he asked through gritted teeth.  
"Your father assured me that he would find someone to rule her-"  
"That's not going to happen" he gripped her arm roughly, she gasped, fear turning into determination, tugging her arm with as much strength as she had she freed her arm from his grasp.  
"It will happen indeed, my lord" she spat "Because your father and the King in the North decided so" her arms folding on her chest.  
"Well then" he smiled falsely "We will leave in a week, anything to make you happy, my lady".  
His smile sent shivers down her spine, she hadn't met many shady men in her life, but she was sure he would be one of the worst in all Westeros.  
They kept ambling in the garden, her arm went back to her place in the crook of his elbow, her heart was still thumping in her chest. The way he had gripped her arm had shaken her to the core.  
She had spent an entire week devising a plan being anchored in the simple idea that the bastard would have been fine with becoming the lord of Woodsteep, but only now she had understood that what Ramsay wanted was to be legitimized and become a Bolton.  
And now she was in his way.  
Annalys stared at Ramsay out of the corner of her eye, he had a stern and calculating face and as they kept walking she tried not to panic.

 ** _I'm back!_**  
Sorry for the wait but I've been binge-watching Outlander (I got to the end of the first season in a few days) and now I'm dwelling in the pain. Also Ramsay, compared to BlackJack Randall, is a cute little lamb.  
But enough of me, we've finally met Ramsay, poor Annalys she's in for a ride.  
Let's place our bets, how do you think the story will end?  
Hope you liked the chapter even tho it's a lil bit longer than usual.  
Tell me if you found some mistakes.  
Love you,  
 _Nicole._


	4. A human vulnerability

_To Germany11, thank you for your interesting analysis.  
And to __jazu10501 and to_ _MadDog Bolton_ _for your reviews, I hope you'll like this chapter too._

* * *

Annalys woke up startled, she jumped in her uncomfortable bed, pulling the itchy furs to her barely clothed body.  
She kept hearing a great commotion and by the sounds of it, it seemed that a thousand men were right behind her doorstep.  
The lady sat at the end of her bed, confused, she looked at her right, where her only window was situated, the sun had just risen; she wobbled to her wooden door, her bare feet in contact with the cold stones making her body shiver.  
With hesitation she opened the way too heavy doorstep, stuck her head outside and, much to her surprise, no one was there.  
Even more confused, she closed the door and then rushed to her window that looked down on the courtyard. That's when she saw them.  
Men were prepping horses, others were helping each other wearing their mail armors, she furrowed her brows in confusion, sweat starting to form all over her body.  
Almost all of the soldiers had joined Robb in his quest for the South so she figured that if all the remaining men were getting ready, then it had to be for something of a great matter.  
Many thoughts ran through her head as, from her high window she caught a glimpse of Ramsay, all dressed up in armor, ordering people around, she scanned him, his posture and, squinting her eyes, she also noticed his expression.  
He was calm, didn't look fazed nor scared, even if she doubted he could ever be, even the other men looked relaxed. She took a deep breath, realizing they weren't under attack.  
Once fear was gone, the feeling got replaced by irritation, she crossed her arms on her chest in anger, like a child, annoyed that she hadn't been informed of the situation.  
She stared at everyone, slightly hanging out of the window with her head to see better, her bothered expression gracing her usually kind face.  
She locked eyes with a soldier for a second, and as she saw him run to the bastard to talk, she got ready to flaunt her annoyed expression.  
He never looked up, her plan to intimidate him failing miserably as he called one of his men, whispered something in his ear and then walked off.  
Annalys turned around, her back facing the opened window, her body rested on the windowsill, she had never felt more confused and outraged in her entire life.  
A knock on the door woke her from their thoughts.  
"Come in" she shouted, not moving from her place, a cocky smile gracing her lips, she expected to see Ramsay and she was ready to throw a scene, she prepared to scream at him and demand for apologies.  
"My lady" said Reila, Annalys' smile fading into a frown "Lord Bolton said that you should go back to sleep".  
"He's not a Bolton" she spat, raising herself from the windowsill "And I'm not going back to sleep 'till I know what's going on".  
Reila grimaced, playing with her hair, Annalys walked up to her, her hatred towards the man growing more and more.  
"I wish I knew too, my lady" she said, sincerely "All this aggressive men going around really scared me".  
"Get me my dress" she ordered, not listening to her handmaiden "I need to talk to him".  
"You can't, my lady" she pleaded, Annalys raised an eyebrow, puzzled "He ordered that you were to stay here for the morning".  
"It's not going to happen" said the lady, walking to her closet and taking out a random dress herself.  
"Please" whispered Reila "He will punish me if you don't do what I say, please, my lady".  
Her handmaiden's voice cracked, turning into a terrified murmur that shook Annalys, not being able to find something to reply she just nodded and sat back on her bed, her hands still grasping the dress.  
"At least" she stated after a while, defeated "If I can't really get out" a sigh "You need to go and find out what's going on".  
Reila nodded, ready to rush out of the door, her braided red hair swinging behind her back.  
"Find out where they are going, why and if any of my men are joining them" she shouted at her, watching her figure run out.  
Annalys threw the dress on her bed, and walked back to the window.  
Feeling trapped, she stared at the great number of men jumping on their horses, Ramsay in the lead of them all. Seeing his silhouette trotting on his horse made her blood boil.  
She felt helpless and betrayed, angry at the Dreadfort's bastard, she had had finally convinced him to leave the damned place for the Woodsteep only a day before, she started screaming without even realizing it, her hands grabbing the bedcovers with force, swinging off the bed.  
Annalys realized that Ramsay had only bluffed, after weeks of begging him she thought he would cave in, but all she got was games and lies.

The young lady wandered through the fort, a frustrated look persistent on her face.  
The Dreadfort was half empty, she would find herself in corridors completely clear of people, she would knock on those doors, always receiving no answer.  
Ultimately she had found her men's corridor, it also looked, to her dismay, empty. She shook her head in disbelief, anger seeping through her.  
Her men, her own men, had left without asking her permission, she was furious, she felt disrespected.  
Blinded by her rage she threw herself on the first door of the corridor, banging her right fist on it, hoping that someone would answer.  
The last door in the corridor opened, the farthest one from her and her fury, then another door, and then also another. A few of her men were staring at her from their doorframes, confused.  
She looked at them and mentally counted them, less than ten men stood in the corridor, other ten missing.  
She grabbed her skirt in her fingers, her right hand hurting from her frenzy, and marched to them.  
"Where are all of the others?" she demanded, her voice sounding way too harsh than she intended to.  
Her men looked at each other's faces, a guilty expression seeping through them.  
"My lady" said Ser Olivar, walking up to her, his wrinkled face smiling calmly, something that would always remind her of her late father "Let's have a talk" he guided her to his room, Annalys followed him, shooting dirty looks at her other men that retreated to their rooms.  
"What's going on, Ser Olivar?" she exploded, once in the room, it was way smaller than hers, with the tiniest of windows and a small uncomfortable-looking bed. The man took a small breath, before talking.  
"My lady, Ramsay Snow is handling some troubles in the north, there's no need to get so worked up about it" she folded her arms across her chest and stared at him in an intimidating manner, her head raised high, eyes shooting daggers at him, he had always treated her with condescendence, but she had always ignored it before this day.  
"You may want to rephrase this sentence, Ser Olivar Flint".  
"I'm sorry, my lady, but it's the truth, he's handling some matters for King Robb and some of our men decided to join him" she scoffed at the mention of Robb, annoyed at the fact that he hadn't contacted her, instead. She shook her head at him.  
"Ser Olivar, may I remind you that you don't get to choose where to go or what to do, you are all sworn to _my_ house, I get the last word in every situation" she spoke in a composed and soothing voice, her fake smile and angry eyes actually giving away her true feelings.  
"But he's you husband-to-be" he argued, his voice getting more faint as Annalys got more pissed off.  
"I am your lady" she screamed, slamming her foot on the floor, the noise echoing in the room "I will always have the last word".  
"I'm regretful and I'm sure all of the others are, it will never happen again" he said, defeated, not daring to look her in the eyes, he was a grown men getting scolded by a girl. He felt ashamed.  
She felt bad, treating her most trusted knight in such a poor way and she knew that she was using him as a stress relief since she couldn't scream at the _real_ source of her anger.  
"It sure won't, Ser Royland" she exclaimed, cocky "Now tell me what's going on".

"My condolences, my lady" Annalys half-curtsied in front of a servant that had approached her in the courtyard.  
"Thank you" she said, not meaning it, a fake smile plastered on her face "I appreciate it".  
Her rage had subsided, she had spent hours screaming in the woods, howling like a wounded beast. Her light grey and green dress was now covered in mud, and her eyes were red and puffy, she felt all of the peasant's eyes on her.  
"My lady" one of the few Bolton's soldiers left had walked up to her, joining the woman "I'm so sorry for your loss".  
She smiled kindly at him, trying to mask her resentment for everyone, her blue eyes giving her away, piercing a hole in his soul. The two retreated leaving her.  
She felt numb.  
"Thank you" she shouted at the man walking away "I appreciate it".  
Annalys rushed inside the fort, all she wanted to be was alone. Her heart was aching, her eyes were puffy, tears constantly welling up in her eyes, she had just found out about the death of the two Stark children and she was suffering like they were her own.  
She was grieving for them but she was also grieving for Theon, one of her closest friends whom, she was sure, would have been executed for his crimes.  
Maybe Ramsay will execute him, she thought to herself while climbing the stairs, or maybe he will be sent to Robb. She was plagued by a strong, persistent pain in her heart. Her life was crumbling before her eyes.  
The lady opened the heavy door to her room, finding her two maidens looking at her with concern. She took a small step inside, her calm façade she had worn in the courtyard shattering instantly.  
Annalys stared at her hands, a single, salty tear rolled down her left cheek, she looked up, helpless, her eyes getting even glossier by the second.  
Their two faces kept popping up in her brain, their happy, carefree faces.  
She pictured her younger self, holding Rickon in her arms when he was only a month old.  
She remembered her and Bran's snow castles and their awful renditions of Winterfell.  
She recollected the first time she taught Rickon to ride her grey horse, his laugh when her mare started to run in circles.  
If she closed her eyes she could still see them laughing, them hugging her.  
Annalys regretted their last conversation, her heart aching, little needles stabbing it, she had just told them a simple hello, too busy handling grownup stuff to give them the attention they wanted.  
Her vision went blurry by the amount of tears welling up in her eyes.  
She shakily sat down on the cold stone floor, her two handmaidens rushing to her.

She stood in the center of the courtyard, her bright grey dress was all clean and clung to her curves perfectly, her dark brown hair had been styled in an intricate manner, the usual lock that would always fall on her eyes had been tucked into a braid on the crown of her head.  
She held her hands together, waiting in utter silence, her few men stood behind her, alongside other Bolton men.  
From her position she could spot her two handmaidens, standing near some peasant girls, Reila was chatting to the kennel master's daughter.  
She took a deep breath, forcing a small smile on her face.  
"They're here" shouted a soldier, all chatter died down, Annalys stood straighter.  
The heavy wooden doors opened slowly, the brunette instantly locking eyes with Ramsay.  
The party of soldiers entered the courtyard right behind the bastard, men were holding Bolton's banners proudly, in the back she could also spot her house's banner, she rolled her eyes.  
"Welcome back my lord" she exclaimed, curtsying in front of Ramsay, he smirked, pleased, his eyes travelling up and down her body, clearly appreciating her dress choice.  
"I'm glad to be back, my lady" he bowed to her, but Annalys' attention was elsewhere.  
On one of the last horses that had entered the courtyard she could see the unconscious body of Theon Greyjoy, his face dirty and covered in dried up blood, his body was contorted on the horse, the only thing keeping him from falling was the soldier behind him and the ropes that covered his entire body.  
He looked lifeless with his eyes shut and his pale body, she gulped, her hands starting to shake.  
Anger and sadness started whirling around in her, the two emotions fighting, one trying to win against the other. She wanted revenge, to see him executed for the death of her two boys, but, on the other hand, she still felt love for one of her closest friends.  
Annalys grabbed her gown with both hands in an embarrassing attempt at hiding her shaking, her knuckles turned white from her strong grip, the fabric creasing. She tried to focus her attention elsewhere, but she couldn't bring herself to detach her eyes from the _body_.  
Ramsay smiled, amused at her reaction, he knew the situation would surely entertain him, he skillfully hid his delighted expression, turning it into a concerned one.  
"My dear" he lightly grabbed her hand, fully aware that all of the eyes were on them "Don't worry about him, I'll take care of him".  
Annalys turned her weary eyes to him, from his words she evinced that Theon wasn't dead.  
"I will never let him hurt you" he exclaimed, his hands caressing her cheek, his nails skimming her skin almost roughly, making her flinch.

* * *

 _ **I'm back!**_  
This chapter was a bitch to write, I really don't like it.  
But don't worry because this was only a filler chapter and I think you know what Theon's arrival in the story means…. Or maybe not?  
 **As last time, let's place our bets:** what do you think will happen between our Annalys and Theon?  
Tell me if you found some mistakes.  
Love you,  
 _Nicole._


	5. doesn't mean that I am weak

_To CharliCharles and Germany11_ _  
Hope you enjoy, I'll update at 3 reviews_

* * *

Silently pacing back and forth in the great hall, under Ramsay and her ten men's stare, she waited long enough to make sure that the tension in the room would be through the roof.  
Her hands were crossed behind her back as she strolled along the room, trying to gather her thoughts and find the right words.  
"Never had I thought I could get disrespected like this" she started, ceasing her walk in front of Ramsay, her men a few feet behind him "These men serve _my house_ , not yours".  
The soldiers lowered their heads, ashamed, Ramsay kept his up, a challenging stare oriented in her direction.  
"You" she pointed at her soldiers, harshly "Get out of here".  
Once the men were gone she marched past the bastard, aiming at the long table that was set in the middle of the room, she figured it was a dining table even though she had never eaten at it, in the last weeks at the Dreadfort she had only eaten in her room, alone.  
Her hands gripped the wooden chair at one of the far ends of the table and she moved it far from it, the seat was heavier than she expected, leaving her arms aching, she sat.  
Ramsay followed her movements in silence, staring at the girls back the entire time, her dark brown hair swinging side to side following the movement of her hips, he stared at her struggling to pull the chair, a smirk gracing his lips, she was tenacious and he liked that about her. Once she had sat down, he mimicked all of her moves and sitting at the table, opposite from her.  
A glacial silence fell in the room, the clatter of the footsteps long gone, even the bird outside had gone silent. Annalys stared into Ramsay's icy eyes, cold sweat dripping down her back, heart throbbing, she didn't advert her eyes from him.  
"That was so insolent of you" her voice was calm and considerate, she slowly rested her arms on the wooden surface "You cannot do that, I am to be your wife and I will not stand here and watch you act without me".  
He stayed silent, implying that she could go on, their eyes still locked.  
"From this day on we will do things together, I will not tolerate something like this again" she stood up abruptly, the chair creaking as she moved it, finally breaking their untold staring contest. Ramsay stayed put.  
Annalys grabbed her skirt and walked out of the silent room, the only noise being the one from her shoes, clacking on the stone floor and echoing all around them.

She had gotten up early that morning, the sun was hiding behind the clouds, projecting a gloomy light all over the fort, shivering from the cold she tiptoed to her wardrobe, grabbing a dark green dress. She tried to make no noise at all, scared her handmaidens would come rushing in. Annalys tied all of the knots on her intricate corset, casually eyeing the courtyard every now and then, she could hear chatter and the sound of footsteps on the pebbly road. The castle was awake.  
Rushing out of the door seemed like the best idea so that no one could have the time to realize that she had gotten up, by herself, and had gotten dressed, by herself.  
The lady of Woodsteep knew exactly where she wanted to go, heading right for the stairs that would take her to the maester of the Dreadfort.  
She had already been there a couple of times, in the days of Ramsay's absence. She had spent them walking around the castle, learning all of the secrets held in its walls, she now knew every road and corridor like the palm of her hands.  
Climbing slowly the stairs she looked around, making sure no one was following her. Once at the top she caught a glimpse of the maester, sitting on a rundown chair. The tower wasn't well kept, webs could be seen in every corner and crevice, the stone floor was of an unusual brown color and vines appeared from the windows and clung to the inside stone walls. Being situated at the top of a spherical tower, the room itself was round and its floor was wooden instead of the usual stone one. The entire place was bare, with nothing hanging from the dark walls and a small table with just one chair stood next to one of the two windows  
She approached the old man in a gentle manner, taping his shoulder to get his attention.  
"Good morning, my lady" he got up from his seat, startled, bowing his head in respect he continued "why are you up so early, my lady? Are you not feeling well?"  
Annalys shook her head, anxiety bubbling up into her stomach for what she was going to say.  
"No, maester, I'm alright" a deep breath, she walked swiftly to the window, avoiding the man's eyes "I was just wondering if you got any letters for me".  
A pause.  
She turnerd around, looking the man in his eyes, for a second she thought that a glimpse of hesitation had crossed his face.  
"My lady the last, and only, letter you received was from your sisters a week ago" Annalys nodded, gazing all around the room, her eyes stopping upon the cages of the ravens "Are you waiting for some other letter?".  
She gulped, her heart thumping at the thought of Robb.  
"Or perhaps" he ...after a moment of silence "you wish to send a letter yourself?".  
Her hands quivered at the thought of writing Robb a letter, she needed to know, she needed to hear from him, but she knew there was no chance she could get away with it. Annalys could still hear Robb ordering her not to write to him unless he wrote her first, she shook her head once again, reassuring him.  
Annalys sighed at the thought of Robb, he would always comfort her, always knew the right thing to say. She was sure he would always protect her and she suffered knowing she couldn't quite do the same.  
"Well, thank you for your services" she said, trough gritted teeth, she took a last look at the room, her eyes landing once again on the cages, although she could see several of them only three were occupied by ravens, two looked similar, both scruffy, old and dirty, they reminded her of the Dreadfort, the last one, instead, seemed to be out of place between them. His feathers were dark and shiny, his eyes awake and ready and tied around his neck was a blue ribbon, different than the red one the other two had, she squinted her eyes trying to distinguish the sigil of the house it belonged to, being able to catch a blurry shape of an animal.  
She knew just one thing: that he, like her, didn't belong there.  
The maester had walked all the way to the wooden door, his old hands impatiently pointing at the exit in a hurried manner, she complied, climbing down the stairs quickly, the ravens leaving her head immediately as the thought of what she had to do next ran through her mind.  
In the few weeks she had been there, Annalys had finally mastered the roads of the Dreadfort, jumping down the last flight of stairs as she approached the hall, the one that could either lead you to the yard, the kitchens or the dungeons.  
She casually walked to the latter's door, which was unusually closed, standing in front of it gave her the chills, she fought an internal battle, raising and lowering her hand to the door knob.  
Taking a deep breath she inched closer to the door, hearing footsteps right behind it, she panicked, bolting away from it and towards the entrance of the yard.  
"My beautiful betrothed" Ramsay's voice pierced through her head like an arrow, she froze on the spot.  
Annalys turned around, fully aware that Ramsay wasn't a fool and he certainly had caught up on her stupid idea, even though she had ran towards the yard she was still more close to the dungeons than everything else. It was all painfully obvious.  
"My lord" she exclaimed in an overly sweet voice, she waltzed over to him, her green dress moving gracefully with her.  
"What are you doing here, up so early?" He grabbed her hand between his, being so close to him she could smell a strong scent, almost like a mixture between rust and something extremely pungent, like bile; she tried her best not to gag.  
"I wanted to have walk in the woods, try to see the wildlife" she explained, an almost genuine smile gracing her lips, she would always do it at the Woodsteep.  
"I'd be careful, out there, my lady" he said, lightly grabbing her waist, her heart pounding faster, the fear subsiding and being replaced by intrigue.  
"Oh" she theatrically exclaimed "and why is that?".  
"It's just dangerous" the light grip turning into a strong hold, making her gasp "I wouldn't want you to get hurt".  
She shook her head, at a loss of words, his head inching the more and more closer to hers, her heart exploding and eyes automatically closing.  
She waited there for a few seconds, confused, Annalys opened her eyes just to meet his glacial ones, awfully close to hers.  
"Even the dungeons are dangerous, my lady" he whispered, his nose brushing hers, sending tingles trough her body "you should stay away from it".  
He ordered, releasing his grip, living her hip aching, the bastard walked past her, grinning wickedly.

After her failed attempt to reach the dungeons, Annalys had gotten even more resilient. Ramsay had hoped that by locking her in his room she would've given up on her silly little quest to see her friend, but instead he had brought upon himself more hate from the brunette, that was even more determined to see Theon, now that even her pride was at stake, she was resolute.  
She still had no idea what she would do once there, her mind constantly aching to see a familiar face.  
Theon wasn't surely Robb, but he was the closest thing she could find.  
Torn between the hate and love she felt towards her friend she had figured that the best way to act was see him.  
Annalys had decided to risk going there during lunch, knowing that, probably, the only thing she needed was luck and not a good plan. She needed to find the right time when the dumbest set of soldiers would be guarding the door.  
Marching to the dungeons was fairly easy, this time the door was wide open, descending the stairs was too, as she expected a group of men stood at the end of the corridor.  
They were peeking into a cell, laughing and pointing at something, she gagged in disgust, only cruel men could laugh at someone else's suffering.  
She climbed a couple of stairs once again, using the narrowing in the wall as an hiding place, she squatted there for a long time, waiting for the men to go away.  
After a while she heard them climb the stairs, she put a hand over her own mouth to make sure they wouldn't hear her while she was sitting in the shadows so it was really difficult to spot her.  
She jumped out of her hiding spot only when she was positive that everyone else had went away.  
Carefully Annalys jumped out of the narrowing, stretching her tired limbs, she climbed down the stairs, her heels clacking on the stone. Running to the cell, she was almost in front of it when Ramsay opened the door and got out of it.  
The two locked eyes, the bastard smiled a vicious smile, he was covered in blood, Theon's blood, noted Annalys.  
"Going somewhere?" he had asked her, she frowned, playing dumb.  
"I got lost" she lied, looking around her, knowing full well her excuse wouldn't be believable, Ramsay took a few steps closer.  
From her place, Annalys couldn't see inside of the cell.  
"Oh, my dear Annalys" his voice turned sweet, very different from his real one "you really think that I will fall for this, you know that I hate liars, right?".  
"I…" started to object the lady, but she cut herself off "I just want to see him".  
"I'm afraid he's sleeping right now" he fake pouted, like he really cared.  
She stepped forward, their chests clashing, her hands rose to his shoulders trying to move him over, to her left.  
He stood still, amused. She kept pushing, nails digging in the leather of his clothes.  
"Let me through" she whispered through gritted teeth, hoping not to raise attention on them.  
She started to pounce on him, the man stood still until he got fed up and grabbed an exhausted Annalys by the waist, flinging her on his shoulders.  
The lady screamed at the top of her lungs, punching and grabbing and scratching everything she would find. She felt Ramsay climb the stairs effortlessly and she cursed herself for having such a petite and easy to overpower figure.  
Ramsay climbed another flight of stairs, gripping Annalys' waist as hard as he could, he wanted to leave bruises, he wanted her to remember it. She flinched when he grabbed the spot that he had already bruised a few days prior.  
Once in the corridor he gestured to a servant to open the door for him, the only light in the room came from a small window, the sun was beginning to set in the sky.  
From her position on his shoulders Annalys noticed that the room wasn't hers, surely it looked identical to hers, but the smell of it was off, the bed was messy and the atmosphere was gloomier.  
She caught a glimpse of the table by the window, covered in weapons, some clean, others bloody and she screeched.  
He walked to _his_ bed, dropped her on it, stunning her.  
With quick steps he got out of the room, locking the door behind him.

Annalys silently climbed down the stairs, descending every step slowly so that she wouldn't make any sound.  
Her mother had always scolded her for being too stubborn, but she could never help herself. She had only been freed a few hours prior from the bastard's room when Ramsay himself had finally unlocked the door, walked her back to her room, and told her sternly to stay in there.  
She listened for noises, checking if someone was around.  
A guard sat next to the last step, his head resting on the stone wall, eyes closed, she resisted the urge to laugh at Bolton's men, _great choice Ramsay_ , she found herself thinking, _this is a good one_.  
She slowed her pace, trying to be as soundless as possible.  
Once surpassed the guard she kept moving stealthily, she knew Theon's cell was the last one in the corridor. She looked inside, the grid's small splits were not helping, she couldn't make out Theon's shape perfectly.  
She opened the simple lock on the outside with a scoff, and then, after hesitating a few minutes she pushed the door open, not fully closing it, terrified that she would accidentally lock herself in.  
Theon was sleeping in an inhuman position, his limbs were spread in all four directions, tied to a cross.  
The stench he released was so strong, Annalys almost gagged.  
She was still next to the door, not daring to take a step towards him. She eyed the man before her, he didn't resemble her friend whom he used to play archery with.  
She had come to the cell ready to get revenge, but once there, all she could see was her friend Theon, not the betraying murderer Theon Greyjoy.  
Running to him, trying to ignore the smell, she raised her arms to his right wrist, untying it from the wooden cross, his arm was slimy from the blood so it took a few attempts for Annalys to finally free it.  
Theon woke up with a jolt and a slight scream, the lady looked at him with concern.  
"Annalys" he exclaimed, shocked "please help me" his voice was reduced to a whisper.  
She tossed the rope away from them, then moved to his other wrist.  
"How did you get here?" He asked, his voice weak and shaky "Did you come here to rescue me?".  
Annalys' hands stopped working on the second rope, she lowered her arms by her side.  
He was right, what was she doing?  
She took a step back, Rickon and Bran's faces flashing in her mind.  
She took another step back.  
"Annalys" he raised his voice, sheer panic seeping through.  
She shook her head, a war raging in her mind.  
"Annalys please, don't leave me here" he pleaded, crying, his free hand was reaching for her, grabbing at the air like a baby would do with It's mum.  
She took another step back.  
"No" she whispered, her blood-covered hands clutching her skirt, staining the light green with red marks.  
"Annalys".  
"I..." She began, but closed her mouth.  
Another step back.  
She had almost reached the cell door, she didn't dare look him in the eyes. She wanted to scream, her lungs felt empty, her head turning.  
A lump in her throat didn't let her speak.  
Theon's whimpering died down, she raised her head to see him struggling to untie his other arm.  
They locked eyes, his bloodshot ones meeting her blue stare.  
He was too weak to untie the knot in his left hand.  
"Please".  
She turned around, grabbing the door with both hands and flinging it open.  
She ran out of the cell, tears welling up in her eyes, her vision was blurry as she tried to close the gate properly.  
Theon's screams were muffled by her own sobs.  
She tried to get away, but her legs gave in, forcing her to fall on her knees on the floor of the dungeons.  
A few steps away from Theon's cell.  
She curled up in a ball, burying her face into her knees, sobbing in the fabric of her blood stained dress.  
Theon's cries joined hers in a heart clenching song.

Ramsay climbed down the stairs at full speed, he couldn't wait to see the show.  
His guard had called him as soon as possible, telling him that the scene was too good to pass on.  
Trying not to make any sound he neared the end of the dungeon's corridor.  
It was hard to spot her at first all curled up on the floor, the dimly lit corridor not helping his sight.  
She was wailing into her skirt, funny noises and whimpers coming from her, she was also shaking.  
Although the best part were Theon Greyjoy's screams from inside the cell, he would call her name every couple of second, begging her like a dog.  
Ramsay smiled, a genuine happiness seeping through him. She had actually fell for his trap, she really thought that the guard would really be asleep? And that the cell was locked with just one simple chain?  
He stared at the whimpering mess before him, he felt proud of himself. He had managed to break both his two little pets all in the same night.  
Ramsay walked past Annalys, gesturing the guard to follow him inside.  
Theon's scream died in his throat at the sight of him, his right arm dangling near his leg, lifeless.  
The knot on his left wrist looked untouched, the bastard tried not to laugh. What a loser.  
"You'll pay for this later" he said, before watching his guard punch him straight in the face, instantly knocking him off.  
The man proceeded to tie his wrist back on the cross, while Ramsay walked back to Annalys.  
The brunette had raised her head and was staring at the wall in front of her.  
"He killed them" she whispered feeling Ramsay right next to her.  
He crouched down in front of her, a tender, out of place, expression on his face.  
"I told you to stay away from him" he caressed her tear stained cheek "I was so preoccupied that this would happen.".  
Annalys stayed silent, grabbing his calloused hand between hers.  
"He deserves to be punished, my lady" he said, emphasizing the first part of the sentence "He has to pay for what he did".  
The bastard rose from the ground, helping her up, he offered her his arm, in comfort.  
They started to walk out of the dungeons together.  
Ramsay knew that the Stark boys were still alive, but he needed her anger and thirst for revenge, eventually she would have helped him destroy Theon Greyjoy. She couldn't know the truth, he needed her hatred.

Annalys climbed the stairs of the dungeon, Ramsay's words ringing clear in her ears.  
He deserves to be punished, she told herself, he has to pay.

* * *

 _ **I'm back  
**_ This authors note will be quick because I don't have time to write, long story short I'll be staying in a place that has little to no wifi so I'll seldom use my computer and I'll update only if I know that people will actually read it, because it will be a pain in the ass to upload. I already have a few chapters written.  
Anyways, have a great summer!  
Love you,  
Nicole


	6. Think you're funny

_To CharliCharles, Aleesha513, Mad Dog Rasay and Germany11 (mah fave)  
Thanks for your reviews.  
The more reviews I get, the faster I'll update __  
_

* * *

Screams could be heard in the entire corridor, they pierced the air like a knife, they made her skin crawl, leaving a dirty sensation all over her body.  
The only thought she had while nearing the source was that a gut wrenching howl like that couldn't be human, never in her life had she heard something like that.  
She carefully walked to the cell, her steps getting shakier by the second.  
Once she got closer her ears caught on the fact that the person inside the cell wasn't _just_ screaming, they were repeating a word, over and over again.  
 _Stop._  
Her hands flew to her ears, not being able to keep listening to, she hummed a tune so that the muffled screams could be covered totally.  
The door was opened and she braced herself, ready to see the crude image of Theon on the cross, a picture that she had been forced to see too many times and was now pressed into her memory.  
This time she couldn't bring herself to raise her gaze, keeping it on the bloodied stone floor instead, her hands still shielding her ears from the noises. She looked like a mess, ready to fall apart.  
A solitary tear slid on her cheek, too many emotions prevailing; bitterly she detached her right hand from her ear to wipe it away.  
Whimpers and sobs hit her eardrum, no shouts.  
She curiously raised her head slightly to see that Ramsay's back was obstructing the view.  
His entire body turned to her, a sick smile spreading on his blood-splattered face, he raised his hands (which both held bloody flaying knifes) in happiness, his arms were bare, his usual leather sleeves gone. The muscles in his arms flexed slightly, showing the blood that covered his skin even more.  
"Come here, my gorgeous betrothed" he had never forced with strength, his words were his best weapons with her, she obliged, starting to get used to the routine and everything that came with it; from the dim lights of the dungeons, to the sight of blood and cut, mangled, skin, from the smell of blood to the feeling of holding a flaying knife in her own hands and…  
She approached Ramsay's side, not daring to look at Theon, in fact, she never looked at his face directly. Not even when he begged her to stop or pleaded mercy in remembrance of their old, destroyed, friendship.  
"Look, my dear" said the bastard's voice, a hand gracing the small of her back, staining the clean grey fabric with a splash of red "Look at my new creation".  
The thing in front of her cried in pain as the lady slowly and painfully raised her head.  
The entire torso was scarred, parts of skin were cut off, its hips, more defined than usual, showed signs of multiple stabbings; confusion started gnawing at her when she noticed the bloodied breasts on the victim's body, the chest quickly rising up and down in a panicked way.  
Her eyes rose quickly to the victim's face and a bloodcurdling scream escaped her own lips as she locked eyes with her owns.  
Annalys' doe like eyes were staring back at her, her face was mangled, but not entirely so that she could still recognize her own features. Her silky brown hair that had once been her pride had been cut and the few locks left were frizzy and glued together with what she guessed was blood.  
She took several steps back, Ramsay's laughter echoing in the room.  
The lady took a full peak at the body on the cross and…  
It had to be her.

Annalys rose from the bed, grabbing the furs in a futile attempt to calm herself. Cold sweat ran down her back as she dashed out of the bed, feeling like she could vomit.  
The room spun all around her, her vision going blurry with every step she took.  
The world could come crushing down at any minute and it would have been more pleasant than what she was feeling.  
With the little stability she could find the brunette somehow waddled to the window, grabbing the windowsill with her entire strength she stuck her head out as much as she could, taking deep breaths of fresh air.  
The moon was still high in the sky, shining in the starry sky and the castle was quiet, the only noise coming from one of the other rooms where someone was lightly snoring.  
Everyone was asleep, but she knew that, for her, it wouldn't be an option anymore.  
From the day that Ramsay had forced her to torture Theon (and the first times she had done it willingly, her hate blinding her and Ramsay's words fueling it like a match) she had had the same, exact, nightmare.  
Her walking to the dungeon's cell, hearing him scream on the cross and then Ramsay handing her the tools and her persecuting him almost to death.  
Never, in the three weeks of the events, she had dreamed of being the victim.  
The scariest part was that, having known Ramsay for more than a month now, Annalys knew fully well that nothing was shielding her from his unpredictability, the only reason she was still safe was a thin line called Robb Stark.  
She breathed in and out, telling herself that the dreams would one day leave her, filling her head with fantasies of her marriage with Robb. It had become her only handhold to sanity. Her own little mantra that she would think over and over. Robb had become her only hope, the only way out.  
She would spend her nights, after a nightmare, thinking about the most frivolous things, some that she had despised until then. She would lay under the window, a blanket wrapped around her body and she would rock herself back and forth, picturing the wedding dress of her dreams.  
The caw of a raven woke her from her own thoughts, looking around the still lightless room she jumped on her feet and stuck her head even more out of the window, squinting her eyes in the darkness of the night.  
The raven was nowhere to be seen, but she was pretty sure that it was an incoming one, since it was too late for anyone at the castle to be sending any.  
She stuck her head back inside, turning her back to the window she slid bacl down the stone wall.  
The raven reminded her of how Robb still hadn't sent her a letter, she had worried deeply the first weeks of her stay at the Dreadfort, everyday hoping to find one with a direwolf sigil on her desk.  
With a gasp she noticed that the moon was in the exact same place it was on her first night at the castle. It had been exactly two moons.  
In the end she had resigned herself to believing that he was waiting just to keep her safe.  
With nothing to do and nowhere to go, she raised her legs to her chest and started humming the lullaby her mom would always sing to her. It had been so long that she had forgotten the words, but the melody lingered in her mind.  
The lady of Woodsteep sang until the sun rose, the tune was simple and consisted of only a couple of notes repeated over and over, but she went on.  
Her humming eventually put the moon asleep and accompanied the sun in its wake, from her place under the windowsill she watched the light enter the room, shadows forming.  
That's where her handmaiden Cerlina, found her, nestled under the windowsill, staring at the wall in front of her, mumbling a song.

"I am alright, Cerlina" she stared into her handmaidens' eyes as the girl adjusted her corset "truly, do not worry about me".  
Cerlina nodded warily, lacing up her dark blue bodice, the lady looked around the room, her eyes darting to the table where she would eat every day.  
"Why isn't my breakfast here?" she complained, turning into the lady everyone expected her to be, and not the broken mess she withered into, at night.  
"Oh" exclaimed the girl, her usually expressionless face turning into a hinting smirk "some lord requested to break the fast with you, this morning".  
Annalys' nose scrunched up in confusion, her eyebrows knitting together, she headed for the door straight away, not wanting to anger Ramsay.  
Analyzing the different reasons of this change of heart she walked through the castle with Cerlina skipping right behind her; although having thought a dozen possibilities through she didn't expect to see Theon opening the doors of the great hall for her.  
In fact, she had to give him a double take, not recognizing him straight away.  
The two stood there for a few seconds, staring each other down, well, Annalys was inspecting him, Theon, instead, had his gaze glued to the floor.  
His hair had been fixed slightly, not damp from the sweat anymore they had turned into their usual curly form, his face wasn't covered in blood anymore, just scars.  
He looked like a bad imitation of Theon, his beard was long and unkempt, his body hunched down forming a shape that she had never seen and his clothes were dirty, old and damaged, but, by far, the most unsettling thing were his eyes; Theon's eyes were fixated on the stone floor and were open wide, terror filled them, they were red and puffy and the light, cold, blue irises stood out more than anything, making him resemble a monster.  
Annalys detached her stare from him and raised her head searching for answers in the bastard, she found him sitting in his chair at the table, food had already been served and he was waiting for her with a welcoming smile.  
"This way, my lady" Theon stuttered pointing to the table, his voice startling her.  
She reluctantly followed him, her handmaiden hot on her heels, the brunette heard Cerlina's squeal at the sight of Theon. She knew that her own handmaidens had started suspecting something from all the times she had gotten back to her room, blood splattered all over her gowns; they had never questioned her, it wasn't their place to.  
Theon clumsily pulled out a chair for her, right next to Ramsay who was seated at the head of the table.  
"You can go, girl" Ramsay ordered to Cerlina who nodded, not daring to confront him, she rushed out of the room, Annalys envied her.  
"Good Morning my lady" exclaimed the bastard, in a cheerful mood, he grabbed her hand, the brunette tried to hide her annoyance, she greeted him in the same bright mood.  
"Have you seen my new pet?" he pointed at Theon "oh no wait, _honey_ , he's _our_ pet".  
Annalys glanced at Theon who hung his head low a few feet away from them, guilt overcame her.  
It's him or you, she realized.  
"Have you given him a name, yet?" she played along, her body leaning towards his, hands grabbing his own.  
Ramsay's smirk grew wider, excitement seeping through him, he unexpectedly rose to his feet, jogging to Theon who kept his gaze to the floor.  
"Look at this" he exclaimed, delighted "What's your name?".  
Silence, Annalys gulped, afraid of Theon's response, Ramsay poked him.  
"Reek, my lord" Annalys' mouth flew open in dismay, the bastard pointed at her happily.  
"I know right?" he hurried back at the table, clapping his hands loudly, Theon limped towards them "I will have the eggs and the sausage, _Reek_ ".  
The man grabbed a plate, that was immediately flung out of his grasp by the Snow who then scolded him with a: "Silly, dumb, Reek, you need to serve the lady first".  
Annalys sat uncomfortably as the limping figure of what was once her friend hurried around the great hall serving her breakfast.  
They ate in silence, Ramsay picking occasionally on Theon. The lady regretted the meals she ate alone in her chambers.  
They had just completed breakfast when Annalys, grasping her half full cup of mint tea, turned to Ramsay.  
"I was thinking" she begun, his head glancing up in a bored manner "we could finally go to Woodsteep, like we planned before-".  
"Before?" he asked, playfully, glancing at Theon who was still in the room, Annalys rolled her eyes in annoyance.  
"Before Theon took Winterfell" she said, bothered.  
"Ah yes" pointed at Theon "he's always causing problems".  
"That's not the point" insisted the lady, voice coming out stronger, adverting the conversation from Theon.  
"We're not going to leave the Dreadfort" he replied, adamant, hands grabbing the edge of the table.  
"Yes we are" she rose from her seat, a burst of courage coming from within her, she wanted, needed, to go back home, to hug her sisters and confide with her maester. She wanted to walk in the woods and not fear Ramsay's hounds, or men "We are going to Woodsteep because that's an order from your father and from me".  
Ramsay jumped at her, in a matter of seconds he had flung her to the stone wall, her wrist locked in his hands.  
"We will stay here" he growled, Annalys caught a glimpse of Theon, he had cowered into a corner and was now rocking himself back and forth, her heart tightened.  
"You will not go anywhere" he added catching her attention once more.  
Annalys chuckled bitterly.  
"You'd rather stay here and rule over something that will never be yours than actually follow me and lead a better life" she felt her wrist start to go numb, but she ignored the pain, she was truly baffled at his stubbornness "you could actually have something to rule over, you would be the lord of the castle and not a bastard that one day is in charge and the other is nothing".  
His other hand flew to her neck, his nostrils flaring, visibly angered. She had finally gotten a real, human response from him and not a calculated, well thought action.  
"Do not call me bastard" he spat, articulating every single word.  
"But you are" she shot back, gingerly.  
For some reason fear had long escaped her body, it had been replaced with bitterness, resentment and numbness.  
"And no matter what you tell yourself, you will always be in the eyes of your father".  
Silence.  
His grips were still strong against her, but she could see from his expression that he was taken aback.  
"You would never be a bastard again" she insisted, lowering her voice, a small devious smile gracing her lips "you would be the lord of the Woodsteep and when your father will die, then we'll overthrow his legacy and merge the two houses together".  
His grip on her loosened.  
"We'll start with the Woodsteep, but I promise" she bluffed, her head thumping, body extremely tense "that one day it will become more".  
Hearing Ramsay's silence she figured he was sifting through her offer, she knew that if he would ever accept after she gifted him a heir he would end up killing her, but she was willing to face that scenario since, in her mind, she wouldn't have gotten to marriage. Robb was her real betrothed.  
She tentatively pulled her right wrist out of his grasp, then raised her hand to his cheek in a calming manner.  
"What do you say, my lord?".  
"Why should I trust you?" he spat at her, she shrugged, her hand still on his cheek.  
"Why should I lie?" she pulled her left hand free, Ramsay was too busy studying her, with both her hands free she cupped his cheeks, cold sweat running down her back "I have a lot to gain".  
Tension filled the room, the only noise coming from Theon's rocking back and forth.  
"I do not have any claim on the Dreadfort, once your father comes back from the war you and I will be useless here. If he forces me to marry you here, I will lose my title as lady of the Woodsteep. I cannot let this happen." Annalys stared at him, becoming more and more apprehensive the second he stayed silent.  
She suddenly became aware of the flaying knifes that he always wore on his belt and she regretted her little speech with a burning passion.  
Suddenly he grabbed her by the waist, he had already grabbed her a few times since she had arrived to the Dreadfort, but this time he had been even more rough.  
Annalys closed her eyes, ready to feel more pain, and gasped when she felt his lips on her.  
Her eyes fluttered open as she pulled away in shock, she stared at him for a few seconds searching his own eyes for some sign of a trick, she sighed, her hands still on his cheeks, his stubble leaving them irritated, Annalys smugly lowered them to his neck finally interlocking them behind it.  
She pulled him towards her, clashing their lips once again.  
Ramsay's hands fell to her hips squeezing them, Annalys smiled in the kiss moving her lips on his.  
 _Being the lady-to-be of a major house she had never been allowed to talk to many boys in her life, so her only kissing experiences had been at Winterfell.  
_ Ramsay spun her from the wall to the wooden table, forcing her to sit on it, whilst never detaching from the kiss, she lowered her hands to his chest.  
 _Annalys had just turned fifteen and she and her dad had rode to Winterfell for their annual visit, there, old enough to drink only alcohol, she had gotten fairly drunk and, by the end of the night she had ended up with her friends in the stables.  
_ A slight moan escaped her lips as he grabbed her bum.  
 _Jon Snow had been her first kiss, the Stark's bastard was only a few years older than her, but, as it turned out, that had also been his first kiss.  
Robb had been her second, like with Jon, they only exchanged a quick, chaste, peck.  
Her true, real, kiss had been only hours later, right before bedtime, when she and Theon kissed.  
_Annalys winced, separating from Ramsay and ending the kiss altogether, thousands of emotions were whirling in her mind at once.  
The bastard smiled wickedly, pleased with himself, he took a step away from the table, letting the lady jump down on her own.  
"We'll leave in a few days' time" he announced, heading straight for the door.  
Theon was still in the corner, his rocking had stopped and, for the first time, he raised his eyes to meet Annalys'.  
They shared a knowing look and if stares could speak, theirs would have meant: I'm doing this just to survive.*

*May I remind you that, although this story is written from an omniscient point of view, the thoughts are always only Annalys', unless stated otherwise. So this last sentence is only Annalys' though, not Theon's.

Anyways, Hello!  
I'm back, a day early because I'm in my house in the countryside and I'm extremely bored.  
Hope you liked this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
Yesterday I banged my head on a door and I'm still kinda dizzy so forgive the mistakes in this chapter ahahah.  
Love you,  
Nicole.


	7. think you're smart

_Warning: from this chapter forth strong language, violent and explicit content, if you are sensible to this things, please, do not read on (and check my author's notes at the end).  
As always I dedicate this chapter to my lovely reviewers, I love you.  
(I'll update at 4 reviews)_

* * *

Travelling with Ramsay had turned out to be calmer than she expected, he would always stay at the top of the convoy, his dark horse leading the way, she would seldom hear his voice ordering _his_ men around, her own men following her orders only.  
Annalys stayed in the middle, surrounded by her soldiers and the two handmaidens, in the past moons they had travelled great distances, but that was the first time their horses were moving at a steady pace, not rushing to get to a destination. Annalys came to dread the slow trot of her grey mare, all she wanted was to reach home as fast as she could, but that wasn't be possible as Ramsay was still torturing her even away from the Dreadfort and commanding the convoy to go as slow as possible.  
They would wake at dawn and ride steadily for hours their breaks after a couple, they annoyed the Annalys to death since she and her handmaidens were expected to keep themselves busy with silly games, like proper ladies. At night they would settle in a field, her's and Bolton's men would erect a makeshift tent for the three of them.  
Ramsay had chosen to bring only his most trusted men, and they were split in two groups, few riding near their lord, others at the end of the convoy, looking after the hounds in the cages, the same dogs that the bastard had persuaded her to take and she had agreed, not in the mood to fight over silly stuff.  
What she hadn't expected, the first day of the trip, when the courtyard was flowing with servants and soldier preparing the last things, was to see Theon's figure approach them.  
Limping towards her he had bowed his head and whispered a weary 'my lady', Ramsay had then grabbed his collar and escorted him to the dog's cages.  
Her mouth had flown agape as she watched the man, who was once so full of himself, climb on one of the cages, not saying a word of protest, he curled up in a ball, near one of the panting dogs.  
Theon was now in the back, alongside all of Ramsay's hounds, she was positive that he hadn't been let out since the first day, while the beasts were let free every break, she would sometime turn her head towards the wagon to see her old friend, still curled up in the same position, limbs slightly moving, sometimes shaking, Annalys couldn't understand if it was from the cold air or fear.  
Walking around the empty field she caught sight of the bastard, talking with one of her own men, they seemed to be getting along and that made her skin crawl; from her fit of rage at the Dreadfort her own soldiers had begun to follow her only orders, but she felt that their loyalty wasn't dictated by their hearts.  
She knew, but hoped to be wrong, that if it were for the Woodsteep to go into war against another house, they wouldn't follow her into battle, they wouldn't be willing to _die_ for her.  
Theon was contorted in one of the cages, his long limbs scarcely fitting in the contraption, she stealthily walked up to him, her head bowed down, the hood of her cloak covering her hair, that in the usual gloomy light of the North now looked raven-black.  
"Theon" she called for him, her voice to a small whisper, he didn't move, arms still covering his head, but she could bet that his eyes were doubling in size by the fear.  
Flashbacks of her own hands slicing through his skin brought up bile into her throat, she composed herself, her hand reaching for him in the cage.  
Theon shot away from her touch whimpering, with dread Annalys lowered her hand as she felt a pang in her palm. As a child her finger had been bitten by an insect, the wound stung so much that she had cried for hours, coddled by her mother, but this time it hurt even more, because crying wouldn't help, no one would comfort her and surely some maester's ointment wouldn't heal her.  
"Theon" she called once again, offering him her leather flask full of fresh water.  
"Not Theon" he corrected her, voice harsh and lowered to a murmur "Reek".  
"When you're alone with me you're still Theon" she forced out, she didn't even believe herself, he looked so damaged that even her sister, the positive little Lunae, would've thought the same. Tentatively she raised her flask to the cage, the bars too narrow to fit the entire thing through, the lady motioned him to get closer to her side of his temporary jail, eyes flicking quickly towards her betrothed every few seconds.  
He hesitated, possibly afraid that it would be one of Ramsay's sick tricks, she hadn't been present to witness any of them, but she had heard his soldiers talking about them, multiple times.  
"C'mon, Theon, you can trust me" she instantly regretted saying it, as a grimace formed on his face "please, drink a little".  
Her nose was starting to adjust to his stench, letting her get even more near the cage.  
Theon slowly put his face on the bars as the lady raised the flask to his dry lips.  
"See?" she said, treating him like a wounded animal "When I'm alone you don't have to fear".  
He nodded slightly, thanking her with his eyes.  
She left swiftly, not daring utter another word and too scared someone would see her: Ramsay now treated her as a somewhat ally and she didn't want to take any risks.

The journey lasted a bit more than a week, each day passing by as the one before; Annalys had formed her own routine when it came to Theon, she knew that he would be given food on every other day and drinks on the ones without food.  
Every day, being extremely careful, she would either slip him a piece of bread, or 'accidentally loose' her flask. One day, at night, she had even slipped out of the tent with a cloth, it wouldn't be as warm as furs, but everything was better than sleeping in the North's cold night with only rags, she figured he would hide it in the morning.  
They never exchanged words, a sentence was never uttered instead it was their eyes that would speak for them. Annalys' tired and alert ones with Theon's puffy and terrified.  
As the days went by and the landscape morphed into her familiar fields, the lady felt a weight slowly being lifted from her shoulders.  
The idea of waking up in her own bed was so comforting that if she closed her eyes, she could already sniff the sweet scent of her room.  
Annalys had spent her nights at the Dreadfort thinking about her sisters, she would force herself to remember their faces, their perfumes and quirks, it had been one of the few activities that had helped save her sanity. But, although she tried hard day and night she struggled to remember the sound of their laughter, finding this out had shook her highly.  
Breathing in the fresh air she wiggled on her horse, a childish screech escaping her lips and legs slightly flailing out as the walls of the Woodsteep came into view. Although Ser Olivar Flint had arrogantly stated that the building was still a day's ride away, Annalys couldn't help but feel overjoyed. Everything was starting to adapt to her plans; she was finally home, Robb's war was actually, as she heard from Bolton's men, going better than expected and soon she would've married her childhood best friend. She relaxed on the saddle, picturing herself in Winterfell's godswood with her white dress and her hands intertwined with Robb's. Annalys also believed that she could save Theon's life by appealing to her _real betrothed's_ kind soul and simply exiling him to the wall.  
Inebriated with her fantasies she smiled at the blue sky, lonely clouds floating here and there in a comforting manner.

Covering the candle's wick with her hands she shielded it from the cold air of a typical Northern night, the faint light brightened a small area around her.  
Walking slowly just to make sure no one would hear her, she tiptoed away from the comfortable heat of the bonfire and her own tent. Her fur covers, draped around her shoulders like a cape, kept her warm enough to walk around the glade only in her nightgown.  
She approached a spot far enough from the camp where she could finally see the Woodsteep's silhouette, the darkness around it dulled by the candles light seeping through some windows.  
Annalys let her blankets slide off her back with a wiggle of shoulders, her hands still occupied with the candle. She plopped ungracefully on the fur covers, finally placing her candle on the grass near her, the lady then hurriedly wrapped the remainder of the blanket around herself once again, her body now resembling a cocoon.  
She basked in the cozy warmth of her nest, eyes still fixed on the castle's outline, fearing that it would disappear from her eyes.  
"What are you doing?" Ramsay's voice awoke her from the trance, Annalys rolled her eyes, unnerved.  
"I can't believe that we're finally here" he was standing behind her, projecting a weird, wobbly shadow on the grass.  
Ramsay walked in front of her, his silhouette blocking the Woodsteep's one, he then crouched down, his leather garments creaking slightly.  
Silence surrounded them as they stared at each other, he was examining her, she was confused, her paranoia having the best of her thoughts.  
"You can't sleep?" he finally asked her, his tone far from the concern of a betrothed.  
"I just wanted to bask in the view" she answered truthfully, his body still shielding the Castle, he snickered mockingly, then jumped back on his feet, his hand grabbing the hem of her furs on his rise, forcing her to follow suit.  
She swallowed hard as his hands tore the furry fabric from her body, the cold air forcing her to cover herself quickly with her own arms.  
In a matter of seconds shivers started to rack her petite body, her teeth chattering blatantly; Ramsay gripped the furs, visibly intrigued by the view.  
"You're a sight for sore eyes, my lady" she shakily raised her head, hate seeping through her own eyes, a feeling that she had tried to conceive for so long, was now trying to escape. Luckily the dim light of the candle that was still placed on the grass didn't reach her own face, it illuminated just her body, covered by her silky white nightgown.  
He roughly reached for her waist as she stomped away towards her tent, his other hand spun her around, her own body now pressed against his.  
His warmth engulfed her as the shivers subsided, she now was shaking slightly, but the teeth's chatter was gone.  
She couldn't see much, having parted from the candlelight slightly, she could only see in front of her, Ramsay's face hovered over her head and she could hear him panting as his hungry hand roamed her lower body.  
Annalys bit her lip, fearing the outcome, breathing in and out as inaudibly as possible she closed her eyes shut. She had heard many tales of maidens and servants, being cornered in dirty, awful places by men and then being violated, she had always been grateful for her state of lady; as a foolish girl, she believed that those kind of things didn't concern her, with her guards and soldiers there to protect her. But now her men were sleeping peacefully by the fire and she wasn't even certain that they would protected her; nothing assured her that, if she screamed, they wouldn't have joined in.  
His right hand rose to her breast, kneading her flesh with his harsh finger; she suppressed a scream as pain shot through her, fearing that that would've provoked him even more.  
His arms wandered all over her body for what felt like hours, gripping, pulling, scratching her fragile frame, his heaving becoming stronger and stronger; with his pelvis awfully close to her stomach she could feel something firm digging in her own flesh, from what her handmaidens had told her she knew what it was and, as she tried to suppress an impulse to vomit, a feeble cry escaped her chapped, trembling, lips.  
Ramsay took a step away, a small cackle filling the air around her, she kept her eyes closed as the freezing air engulfed her once again, the light sound of steps on grass could be heard getting fainter and fainter as Annalys shook in the night wind.  
When she gathered the courage to open her eyes her hands had ultimately gone numb, the sky had changed from a dark blue to a lighter one and the moon wasn't as high in the sky.  
In a highly confused state she limped to the candle that was still on the ground, the wax had melted all over the grass, in her haze she crouched on her unsteady legs and grabbed the taper by its candle holder, the shaky light brightened her surroundings and she gasped: her exposed skin had turned as pale as the snow in the tales of Winter and the tip of her fingers were now a sickly blue color. Terrified at the sight, she moved to her tent quickly as much as her hurting legs permitted her.

Sitting on her horse Annalys moved her legs to and fro, with one hand she gripped the heavy cape draped all over her body while the other held the rails.  
Looking around her she noticed her two handmaidens looking concernedly at her, sometimes she could hear them whisper to one another. The lady knew that seeing her in those conditions had scared them to death.  
She had tumbled into the tent, shaking and saying incoherent words, her maidens had rushed to her side, both too drowsy to understand what was going on.  
Annalys had been wrapped in all of the blankets they could find and Reila had then rushed out to prepare a hot tea. Mild frostbite, had said Cerlina running her hands up and down her body to create more heat. Once the confusion and shock had died down, the two maidens dared to ask questions. Usually servants weren't allowed to question their lords, let alone, scold them, but this was a different, unique situation and they needed to know.  
Annalys had lied. She hadn't even tried to utter _those_ words, she felt ashamed and instead she said that she had fallen asleep outside.  
A sigh escaped her chapped lips as she slightly rested her entire weight on the horse's back. He had toyed with her once again; all he wanted was to ruin her happiness and to break her, and she had let him win once again.  
Annalys stared at Ramsay's back as she wondered what his new way of torture would be awaiting her, she had tried to fight against him and she had gained her house back, but, she looked up at the sky to stop the tears, she had nothing more to gain, only to lose.  
And, as Annalys Woods approached the Woodsteep's gates, she decided that she would stop resisting him, that submitting was her best choice, just like Theon had done.  
"Who would pass this gate?" asked a soldier, he was situated in the highest tower of the walls, he knew exactly who they were, from the coat of arms and the fact that the whole Woodsteep had been getting ready for their arrival.  
Silence fell as Annalys's horse came forward in the convoy, now her grey mare and Ramsay's dark brown stallion were now side by side.  
"Who would pass this gate?" the young man repeated himself, voice louder than before, Annalys didn't even look up to know that Ramsay was staring at her, she just kept her head down, looking at the hairs in the mane of Silver.  
"Ramsay of House Bolton and his betrothed, Annalys of House Woods" she swallowed a lump in her throat and she raised her head to see the wooden doors of her loved castle opening.  
She felt ashamed of herself, disgusting even, thoughts were flooding her mind, but, as the gates fully opened, and she saw her sister's bright faces, everything died down.  
Silver strolled into the courtyard, looking mighty and regal, and Annalys stood straighter, trying to gain some dignity back.  
She jumped down off of Silver with the aid of one of her men, in his eyes she could only see disdain for what had happened minutes prior.  
Her older sister, Emmalyn, was the first one to come forward, bowing down in a perfect curtsy, Annalys did the same, a mischievous smile forming on her face. She then turned to Lunae, who's hair had been braided for the occasion and who's usual favorite blue dress had been replaced with a more elegant, grey one. Her curtsy was weak and clumsy, but Annalys still felt proud.  
The two girls were ready to rush forward when Ramsay jumped down of his own horse, he readily situated himself at Annalys' side, one hand on the small of her back and she stiffened.  
"Lady Emmalyn" he bowed and grabbed her sister's hand in his own, bringing it to his lips, it took all in Annalys' willpower not to jump forward and pull away his lips from her pure sister, but she stood still and watched as Emmalyn's cheeks turned a bright red. Then he moved to Lunae, repeating the full process over again.  
Five minutes later the courtyard had already been cleared of all the servants, being occupied with the welcoming party in some other ways, Annalys entrusted the care of her mare, Silver, to her most loved stable boy and she then turned to her sisters.  
They both ran up to her, Lunae being only nine was still so short to be reaching only her waist, right in the place where her skirt and corset were sawn together; the fifteen-year-old, instead, was almost as tall as her older sister.  
They hugged for a long time, people coming and going all around, but none of them seemed to care.  
And as the three sisters headed inside hand in hand, Annalys finally felt like all of her troubles had lifted away and flown far, like a raven.

The Woods sisters had always spent the last hours before bedtime all together, there wasn't a day spent at the castle that Annalys didn't recall it ending with that tradition.  
It had all started when the youngest sibling, Lunae, at the tender age of four, had snuck into Annalys' room, way past her designated bedtime, Emmalyn, after hearing the commotion, had then joined the duo and it became an habit. Sometimes, if something sad happened in their lives, they would even spend the night in Annalys' chambers, sleeping all on her bed.  
The lady's bedroom had stayed untouched the entire time of her absence, the scent of winter roses lingering between the walls, and a few fresh new roses were kept in a vase on her wooden desk.  
This was extremely different from her room at the Dreadfort, the light coming from the big window shone brighter, the bed was way more comfortable, the covers were softer with the smoothest furs, even the air seemed to be fresher.  
Cuddled on the vast bed, the three girls all held a cup of warm tea in their hands and the younger two were gossiping on about the newest shenanigans of the servants, Annalys was lying down, her eyes closed, basking in the voices of her sisters, smiling at their laughs, something she had dearly missed. She wasn't in the mood for blabbing, the weight of Ramsay's actions still pushing down on her shoulders, she wondered if that would have ever leave her or if it would stay there, like an inner scar.  
Emmalyn giggled after she uttered something that made Lunae cackle, Annalys' eyes shot open, a concerned look filling them.  
"What did you just say?" she inquired, her voice shaking slightly, the cup she was still holding now extremely instable in her hands.  
Emmalyn and Lunae's laughter died down, the youngest lowered her eyes to the ground, ready to be scolded, the former stared at her sister in confusion. She was old enough to understand that Annalys' tone wasn't of someone who's angry at a joke, it wasn't an annoyed voice rather a panicked one.  
Emmalyn's arm flew over her little sister's shoulders, in an attempt to comfort her.  
"I was just joking about Robb Stark's new wife, Sister, didn't you know?" Annalys locked eyes with her sibling, a distressed look mangling her soft features, she slowly shook her head, breath slowing down, becoming shallower by the second.  
She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out, just a strained noise.  
Her nose scrunched up, her brows furrowed, the lady looked at her sisters in utter disbelief. Her right arm gripped strongly to edge of the nightstand, preventing her body from wobbling or falling while her left hand let go of the cup she was gripping, the little tea remaining staining her white furs.  
"I don't-." she shook her head "You have to be mistaken".  
"An" began Emmalyn, motioning the Lunae to leave the room, the little nine-year-old leaped down the bed and skipped out in a matter of seconds "it's true, word spread less than a week ago".  
Annalys jumped up herself, pacing back and forth in the chamber, her legs moving out of control, she finally stopped in front of the large window who's view was of the woodlands. On clear nights, when the moon shone bright in the sky, she would run off to the maester tower and, with his help, she would be able to spot Winterfell, there she would spend hours, picturing her friends in the, what looked to her, small building miles away. She considered escaping to the maester's tower, just to sit on the stony window and pretend, just pretend, to go back to when she was a young, naïve child.  
The fifteen-year-old grabbed ahold of her arm, guiding her older sister to the bed, gently pushing her to sit. Then, in a loving, caring, manner she drew small figures with her fingers on her sister's exposed skin, to calm her down.  
Annalys had turned speechless, eyes staring at an empty space in the room, Emmalyn draped an arm around her shoulders, stroking her skin comfortingly, she then forced her older sister to look at her in the eyes.  
"I know that you two were close" the lady detached her body from her sister's, human touch repulsing her.  
"Who is she?" spat the lady, her voice had turned into a mixture of hatred and disappointment.  
"Rumors say that she is an healer and that the two married in secret and-".  
"Get out" Annalys pointed to the wooden door, her stare harsh, burning an hole in her sister's soul.  
"But-" protested Emmalyn, saddened by her sister's harshness.  
"I said, get out" shouted the other, voice breaking in the process.  
"Alright" answered even louder Emmalyn, having the same, proud and headstrong personality as her sister.  
The younger one rose to her feet, and bitterly, without saying another word, she left banging the door closed behind her.  
Annalys flung herself back on the mattress, eyes staring at the stone ceiling, soon the image started to get blurred out by tears.

 _ **READ ME, I'M IMPORTANT!**_  
I'm back wowowow, I'm so happy to be back! How are you all doing?  
Sorry I missed last week's update, but I got caught up in the Olympics (and I fell in love with my countries' Olympians, they are now my children and I will protect them) and then I went abroad for a few days, so I didn't have my loyal laptop to write.  
ANYWAYS, I would say that writing this chapter was like _giving birth to twins while in the desert_. Not easy, not pleasant.  
I first intended for this to be a filling chapter, (and it kinda is?) but I wasn't happy with the outcome and so I rewrote it from scratch (even because the initial chapter was like only 1000 words, ew).  
I'm even going to write it here: _from this chapter forth, shit is going to hit the fan so don't expect nice, happy things cause you ain't gonna get them. It's gonna be sad, it's gonna be harsh, strong language and disturbing content will be prominent._  
I know that since this is a Ramsay Bolton story many of you already expected it, but I still want to make sure that no one gets "hurt". So, if you are sensible to this thing, please please please, stop reading this story. If you're still curious over the events, but don't feel like reading it's totally fine: just send me a PM (private message) and I'll write you a lil recap for every chapter.  
I'm done now, this is probably the longest author's note in history.  
Hope you enjoyed this chapter,  
Nicole :)


	8. think you're gonna break my heart

_Warning: from this chapter forth strong language, violent and explicit content, if you are sensible to this things, please, do not read on.  
As always I dedicate this chapter to my lovely reviewers, I love you._

* * *

As she wobbled down the stairs a feeling of uneasiness spread in her stomach, she felt like someone was pushing her, but after turning around her eyes only met shadows.  
The silence was almost unbearable, even the heels of her shoes didn't emit any sound as she walked on the stone floor, it was unusual.  
She glanced all around her, but darkness was all she could see, she felt chills running down her spine, almost like a breeze had touched her, but her body didn't feel cold.  
The invisible force kept pushing her forward and forward and forward, as her dizzy mind tried to gather some clues on her location.  
It couldn't be the Woodsteep, no place was that dark and gloomy, it also didn't look like Winterfell. She stopped dead in her tracks as bile rose to her throat, she had only been in three castles her entire life: Woodsteep, Winterfell and…  
Annalys opened her mouth to scream, but no sound escaped her lips, she turned around ready to sprint up the stairs, but the unseen energy forbade her.  
She wobbled forward, awaiting the sight of the dreaded cell door that, seconds later, appeared right in front of her eyes.  
The door opened by itself, a loud creak escaping the rusty joints.  
The silence surrounding her became even more suffocating, her lungs tightened as she met the familiar back blocking the view of the victim, she took deep breaths, breaths that should've been noisy but didn't emit any sound, the air not enough to reach her organs.  
Her legs moved forward, towards the figure, ears ringing loudly.  
The men moved out of her way of sight, still keeping his back to her.  
Annalys fought against the urge to run away at the sight.  
Her mauled body, her cut hair, her own blood splattered all over the floor and herself.  
She wasn't moving, the thing on the cross that faintly resembled her, she wasn't breathing, her chest wasn't moving up and down, she was pale as a ghost, the only touch of color coming from the scarlet liquid covering her frame.  
Her hands were tied up to the two extremities of the cross, and the lady finally understood where all of the blood came from.  
The skin on both of the wrists had been sliced, a shaky cut now adorning her once pale arms.  
Blood was still dripping down on the floor, producing a tickling noise, she stared at the drops of blood, incredulous, she could finally hear again.  
The room started spinning as sounds started to fill it, she heard herself scream at the top of her lungs.  
Her strength finally gave in as she crumbled to the ground, throat tightening so much that no sound could escape it. She stayed there, the dripping noise going back to being the only thing to fill the room.  
She couldn't help but stare at the cuts in her arms, one, persistent, thought flooding her mind.  
This does not resemble Ramsay's work.  
She shot on her, wobbly, feet and turned to the mysterious figure.  
A slightly hunched down fetid creature met her gaze, it held a bloody kitchen knife and a faint smirk on its face.  
"Theon" she managed to get out, her head turning confusingly from her dead body to him "Why?".  
Hers was more than a question, it was a cry of defeat.  
"Why?" he repeated, with a few fingers missing from his right hand he failed to hold the knife right, the utensil constantly slipping from his grip.  
"Why did you do this to me?" her voice had turned to a whisper, tears running down her cheeks.  
"Why did _you_ do this to me?" was all that he said back, his voice was as faint as hers, the only difference had been in the 'you' who had been pronounced with spite.  
"Theon, I did not kill you" she shot forward, her shaking hands gripping his arms, they had never been that close, her devastated eyes searching for his.  
"Yes" he hissed "You did".

Her body shot up from the bed, the covers attached to her sweaty body.  
She stared forward, no emotion whatsoever in her eyes.  
Her body had somehow stopped reacting to shocking events, her tears had somehow run dry, her mind had somehow shut itself to her distress.  
Still clutching her covers she started humming her mother's lullaby until the sun flooded her room.  
When her handmaidens silently stormed in her room, she had already dressed herself and was calmly napping on the bed, all curled up in a ball.  
The two handmaidens shared knowing looks.  
"I am truly worried, Reila" said the red-haired woman, she rested the tray of foods over the only table in the room and she turned to her best friend who was quietly cleaning the room.  
"I am too, but we cannot interfere with her life" they both looked at their lady, Cerlina shot forward, and hand slightly shaking the brunette's body.  
Annalys jolted upwards, eyes rummaging quickly the entire room.  
"My lady, I brought the food to break the fast" Annalys walked to the desk, the only noise coming from her being the one of her own steps.  
"My lady" began Cerlina, Reila shot her a death stare mouthing something along the lines of 'do not dare', the younger handmaiden ignored her "Don't you think that it may be time to reconcile with your sister?".  
Annalys took a bite of her cake, her gaze fixed downwards.  
"I could arrange to send her here, if you desire" insisted Cerlina "It's been almost a month, my lady".  
And it was true, Annalys had spent an entire month stuck in an obnoxious routine: she would wake up, sometimes in the middle of the night some other times at sunrise, then she would get dressed, break fast, she would push herself to do a rigorously silent promenade in the gardens with her two handmaidens, she would dine with Ramsay and, sometimes her sisters, in silence and then her body would drag itself up the stairs to the bedroom.  
In the first week after she had found out about Robb she had spent each and every moment she had alone crying, then a numbness had engulfed her, leaving bitterness and hostility.  
She had never crossed paths with Theon, she did not even know where he was situated and, even worse, she wasn't sure he was alive.  
"I would like to, thanks Cerlina" she muttered, the two girls hurried outside and less than an hour later, Emmalyn was standing right in front of her, a stern look on her young face.  
"Emmalyn" exclaimed Annalys and the two sisters shot forward, they hugged for what felt like hours, no words were uttered, the fifteen-year-old knew better than ask her sister for an explanation.  
"I am sorry" they said in unison, the older sister shook her head.  
"No, I am sorry, you did not do anything wrong" Emmalyn opened her mouth to say something, but the sudden opening of the door interrupted them.  
"My lady, I apologize, but Lord Bolton should be here in a matter of minutes" Reina's blue eyes were filled with agitation.  
"Ramsay?" she answered, confused "What does he want?".  
"No, my lady" blurted the handmaiden "Not Lord Snow, Lord Bolton".  
"Roose Bolton?" cried out the lady, she gripped her skirt and rushed out of the room, sister and handmaiden hot on her heels.  
"Why wasn't I warned?" Reina bit her tongue, she refrained from telling her that Ramsay had been bragging about it the entire week so she just uttered an apology.  
The three hurried down the stairs and into the courtyard where every important person had been positioned into neat groups.  
"My beautiful Annalys" Ramsay called for her, she jogged to his side right in time to hear the sentinel shout out a 'who would pass this gate?', the bastard standing at her side grabbed ahold of her hand, squeezing it a little too tight "You are late" he whispered.  
"I am here, my love" she shot back, between gritted teeth, she had started calling him my love a few weeks prior, in a futile attempt to please him, sometimes he appreciated it, others not so much.  
The heavy doors opened to show Roose's mighty horse, it strolled into the courtyard with a noble look to itself, Annalys forced out a kind smile.  
Roose Bolton jumped down of his horse, his fancy attire making a few servants chatter to each other, Ramsay shot forward, for the first time a genuine, not evil, smile was adorning his lips.  
The Bolton ignored his son, instead he walked to another horse and offered his help to a rather chubby woman, she jumped down with difficulty.  
The duo then turned to Ramsay and Annalys, as father and son exchanged a few words, Annalys curtsied to the woman who followed suit with a very awkward curtsy.  
"Lady Annalys Woods, may I present you Lady Walda Bolton" said Roose with a smirk, he looked way more intimidating in her own courtyard than the time she had saw him at Robb's camp, maybe it was because she wasn't under the Stark's protection anymore or perhaps it was because she had learned of Ramsay's true nature and now she feared his father even more.  
"Bolton?" she questioned, a curious look spreading over her face, Ramsay walked back to her side, joyous.  
"This is my father's new wife, they're newlywed, _my love_ " he then grabbed Walda's chubby hand and kissed it "Mother" he addressed her, she blushed profusely.  
"Now, if you will excuse me" Roose turned to Ramsay and Annalys "I am very tired and I wish to see my chambers, my lady".  
Ramsay clamped his teeth in annoyance as Annalys and his father discussed about important matters, the lady noticed with much glee that the bastard's father evaluated her as more important than his own son.  
She then called a few servants to her side, ordering them to take Lord Bolton to his chambers, Ramsay followed his father inside, as she stood in the courtyard, eying all of the people around her leaving to get back to work.

As she adjusted her green dress she turned around to eye her sisters, like one of their many traditions, every time they had an important dinner, Annalys would always get ready in Lunae's room, mostly to check on the younger one, preventing her from messing her hair or dress with one of her usual shenanigans.  
Her sisters were still getting ready, Lunae was still wearing her dirty dress and Emmalyn's hair hadn't been braided yet.  
She sighed while opening the wooden door, her 'don't be late' rang in the hallway.  
She skipped down the stairs, for the first time in a long she felt calm; Roose Bolton had showed signs of respect towards her and Ramsay seemed to be intimidated by him, something she had never seen in the bastard. She hoped that Roose's presence would keep her _safer_.  
The dining room was entirely lit with candles and the pleasant scent coming from the kitchens filled her nostrils, Annalys smiled in contempt as she leaned on the stony wall, she watched the servants come and go some seemed scared of her presence, others kept setting up the table, their heads turned downwards.  
The number of servants was overwhelming, she had never seen them work, but they moved so fast she couldn't recognize any of them, except for one, he looked terrified, her eyes caught him as his scrawny figure was moving shakily towards the kitchen.  
"Hey" she shouted, everyone froze in their tracks, servants looking around themselves esitantly, all of the servants had stopped, except for one, who tried to hurry away.  
"Theon" she yelled at him, all of the other servants ran out of the room, leaving the shaking figure alone with the Lady of Woodsteep.  
She jogged to him, who was now standing near the farthest wall from her.  
He was holding some silverware in his hands, and he finally wasn't stinking anymore, he reminded her of the Theon that had served dinner weeks prior: still broken and shaking, but clean and groomed.  
"What are you doing here?" she said eyeing him up and down, she had not seen him from the day she had gotten to the Woodsteep, he had been hurried inside the castle from a back door, and she hadn't even had the time to find him a placement.  
In the beginning she had contemplated giving him one of the Lord's chambers so that he would be hidden from everyone, but with the news of Robb's marriage she had completely forgotten about him.  
He seemed to remember that he had to complete his task so, without answering her, he limped towards the table, setting the cutlery down on the tablecloth.  
She followed him, placing an hand over his bony shoulder she turned him around.  
"Are you okay? Where are you sleeping?" her voice was full of concern, Theon kept his gaze on the floor, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.  
"Theon?" she asked, trying to get a response out of him.  
"It's Reek, my lady" was the only thing he said, Theon looked more shaken than usual and although he had been cleaned and groomed he looked even scarier, with his fiddling hands and his wide, bloodshot eyes.  
"Is there something that you want to tell me?" she pushed on, cornering between her body and the table.  
"No my lady".  
"Where is he keeping you?".  
"Do" a small sob "Do not worry, my lady".  
He slightly pushed past her, and she watched as his limping figure tried to run for the farthest door, she figured it would be better to let him go, so, with a sigh, she turned to her spot near the wall, waiting for dinner to be served.  
Ramsay was the first to arrive, his usual cocky grin had turned into a slight frown that he hid right away the moment he saw the lady.  
"Why is he here?" she blurted the second he got close to her, grabbing her waist roughly.  
"Who, my lady?" he faked confusion, his brows furrowing and his eyes turning docile, he couldn't fool her thought as his hand was still gripping tightly her hip.  
"You know who I'm talking about, why is he here?" she whispered, her eyes searching for his "I do not want my subjects to see what you did to him".  
Ramsay chuckled, a dark kind of laugh, the kind of laugh only him was capable of doing.  
"You do not want your subjects to see what _we_ have done, _or your sisters_?" his tone was sharp, he was enjoying messing with her heart, he got closer to her so that their body were fully touching nay so that his body was pressing against hers.  
Annalys tried to wiggle out of his hold, disgusted by his words and by his body.  
"What is it, Annalys, are you afraid that they're going to see you as the monster you are?" she froze.  
"I am not, and do not speak of me like that" she spat finally finding the strength in herself, she placed her hands on his chest, pushing as hard as she could "now move out of my way".  
She marched out of the dining room as Ramsay shouted a "see you at dinner my love".

The entire room was silent, the only noise coming from the clanking of the silverware, it had been like that the entire dinner.  
Sometimes Lunae would utter some question, but she would either get scolded by her sister Emmalyn or Lady Walda, Roose Bolton's wife, would be the only one to answer her.  
Annalys sat awkwardly next to Ramsay, nerves eating her up, she was afraid that he would bring up the issue of Theon, she felt it coming, she had learned the hard way how much Ramsay liked to tease her.  
Theon had been settled in a corner of the room, her sisters couldn't see him because they had their backs to him, but Annalys could and sometimes she would turn her eyes to glance at his shaky figure, holding a pitcher of wine.  
She knew her sisters couldn't recognize him, he had been to the Woodsteep only one before in his lifetime and it had been years before, it was Ramsay that scared her.  
Roose sat at the head of the table, furthest away from her, and the entire time had stayed deadly silent, eating his food slowly, he didn't emit any sound to the point that Annalys had, multiple times, forgot about him.  
Lunae scoffed, visibly bored, a placed her silverware on the table rather loudly, then she sat up straighter,  
Annalys braced herself for another dumb question.  
"Lord Roose" she exclaimed, her sister Emmalyn kicked her from under the table, then whispered something to her in an annoyed manner.  
"Lord Bolton" said Lunae this time all red in the face "Why aren't you fighting in the war anymore?".  
Annalys' head shot up, she tried to feign indifference, she too had wondered the same question and had been plotting a way to ask him, little did she know that all it would take was a mannerless nine-year-old.  
Ramsay too, had raised his head, his face contorted in excitement.  
"The war is over" was all that Roose said, he hadn't even raised his head from the platter of meat, his emotionless voice rang in the room.  
Annalys turned to Theon who had a guilty face, he already knew.  
"We won, right?" asked Emmalyn to her bigger sister, Annalys had turned her gaze to Roose's figure, something wasn't right.  
" _We_ did win, yes" said Ramsay, his voice full of an unusual glee, a shiver travelled through Annalys' spine.  
Her sisters celebrated, but she turned to the Boltons "What happened to the Lannysters then? How come I wasn't informed?".  
"They also won, my love" said Ramsay, his grin widening even more, the lady's heart started thumping and she tried to put the pieces back together.  
"Then who lost?" Lunae's voice emanating her own confusion.  
"The Starks" Roose Bolton's voice rang clear in the entire room "And all of their supporters".  
Annalys' hands gripped the table harshly, Ramsay learned over her and whispered something in her ear.  
She shot up from her seat, the room spinning out of control, her sisters were looking at her in fear, her soon husband-to-be's laughter echoing all around her, she took to the door hurriedly.  
Tears staining her cheeks, she pushed the wooden door with all of her strength and let it close with a loud bang behind her.  
The bastard's voice was still ringing in her head as she quickly ran up the stairs, tears blinding her.  
My father killed him, we're now the Wardens of the North.  
 _Him_.  
She stumbled over a step, falling onto her knees, her entire body surrendering to the pain. Annalys didn't have the strength to get back up, shaking over the staircase she let out a loud wail as she felt the entire world crumble with her.  
The sound of uncertain steps pushed her to close her mouth, someone's hand appeared in front of her face, she recognized it even trough all those tears.  
It was callous and scarred, some wounds still not perfectly recovered, with missing skin.  
"What are you doing here" she uttered in between sobs.  
"He sent me" she grabbed his hand hastily, he pulled her up on her feet.  
"Leave me alone".  
"He ordered me to-".  
"Leave me alone you disgusting creature" she angrily wiped the tears from her eyes with one hand, and pushed him away with the other "You already knew this, didn't you?".  
"I-" he climbed down a few steps scared, his body crumpling up like a piece of parchment.  
"You revolt me, you don't even care about Robb, look at you, you didn't even flinch" she climbed a few steps, her hand grabbing the rail of the stairs, body still too weak to do it alone "Stay away from me, it's your fault"  
She broke down into tears once again at the thought of Robb dying.  
"It's all your fault, you repugnant thing, if you hadn't betrayed him perhaps he would still be alive".  
"It is-" he tried to utter something, his body shaking and tears threatening to come out.  
"Stay away from me" she growled, her voice now filled with hate, her back turned to him and she rushed up the stairs, sobs echoing throughout the entire castle.

 _ **READ ME, I'M IMPORTANT!**_  
Guess who's back, back again, I am back, tell a friend.  
Okay, now to the serious stuff, I am seriously in love with the title of this chapter cause the other two have been leading to this one (Think you're funny, think you're smart, think you're gonna break my heart) so yeah I'm v excited.  
Also poor Annalys nothing ever seems to go her way, but don't worry, she will get her revenge one day.  
To the lovely people that review, thank you soso much and sorry for the wait I was never in the right mood to write and I prefer make you wait a little bit more than give you a shitty chapter.  
To make it up to you, _**if you review you can ask me a question about the next chapters (only one though hehe) and I'll answer privately, I won't lie nor refrain from answering.  
**_ Last but not least, to the person that in the last review said 'so you're saying that this isn't a robbxoc fanfic' I think I made it very clear from the start that this was gonna be a fanfic on Ramsay, with a slight love interest for Robb, I never said that this was going to be a RobbxOc fanfiction, if you're not okay with that I am sorry, I will keep mentioning him and further on in the story you'll understand a lot more about his relationship with Annalys. I would've answered you privately, but you gave me no choice since you're a guest.  
Hope the rest of you enjoyed this chapter,  
Nicole


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